Champion of Inlé
by DONOVAN94
Summary: Angela Romford was a vet living in the Village of Ecchinswell on the downs. When a horrific accident befalls her, she is offered a second chance... just not one she expected. Now stuck in the form of a black rabbit, Angela is forced on a journey to discover who she is, where she belongs, and what it means to live. With the rabbits of Watership Down at her side, what could go wrong?
1. The Vet of Ecchinswell

**Author's Note: Welcome readers, to my first Watership Down story. This story hasn't been able to leave my head since I watched recent Netflix adaptation, which I loved. The original film was great, and was a rite of passage for my childhood, but I do love the Netflix adaptation a little more (please don't hurt me!).**

**This story (like many others of mine) is centred on an OC - so if that's not your cup of tea, I understand, but I hope that you at least give my story a try first.**** And whilst this story is primarily based on the Netflix version, there will be some things thrown in here from the original movie, both books, and maybe even the 1999 cartoon. **

**Massive thanks to ilovedracoDH for being an awesome beta reader!**

**Usual disclaimer: I own nothing, all rights of "Watership Down" belong to Richard Adams, Netflix, and the other powers that be. I only own my OC's and any AU elements. **

* * *

**~ Champion Of Inlé ~**

by DONOVAN94

* * *

The Vet of Ecchinswell

"I swear," Angela growled softly, "I'm going to kill the scumbag that left this snare lying about!"

She threw the offending object into the back of her car, not caring where it landed. As far as she was concerned, it would be burned the moment she got back to the clinic. The blood still on it stained her fingers. Her wellies squelched in a patch of mud left from yesterday's rain. She didn't care. What she did care about, was the struggle she'd have to go through to get her car out of the field when she left. She cared about the poor dog who needed to be cleaned up. In the pockets behind the driver's seat, in the compartments of the doors, the sanitary wipes eluded her.

A knock echoed on the roof of the car. Ducking her head out, she found Daniel leant against the side, helpfully holding one out for her. He was a good young man, just out of vet-school but he was sharp of mind enough to keep up with Angela. Tall and lanky, only a hint of past acne still in his cheeks.

"That's the third snare this month." He said as she took the wipe. He closed the car door and crossed his arms. He nodded to the middle-aged man just twenty feet away, trying to keep his Rottweiler calm. "And Mr Cane thinks there's more dotted about his lands."

Stuffing the bloody wipe into her pocket, Angela picked up her kit. "I know. Someone's poaching, and we need to find out who."

"Come on, Angela. We know who it is." Daniel muttered.

His trainers sank into the mud, and he cursed. She stopped him with a hard hand on his arm. "Yes, but we can't be making accusations without proof. And we don't want to attract trouble…"

Daniel looked about as if saying the words aloud would summon those they spoke of. "Right. Gypsies***** are a nasty bunch."

"Not all of them." Angela began to walk back towards Mr Cane. She could hear Daniel try to wipe his trainers on the overgrown grass and smiled to herself. That was why her welly-boots were her favourite pair of shoes. "My best friend in middle school came from a Traveller community. Some of them wouldn't think about touching animals like this. But others…"

"Let's just hope they move on soon."

Angela knew that even if the gypsies moved on tomorrow, the damage would've already been done. They'd been spotted only a week ago, parking their caravans in a field left by Farmer Cane to fallow. Already, they'd been dumping their rubbish, and there'd been a number of iron work stolen. The police said they couldn't do anything because the circumstances were coincidental, and no actual evidence pointed to the Travellers. Angela had a bad feeling in her gut that this problem would only get worse before it might get better.

Gently placing her kit on the ground, Angela began to rummage through for the cotton-wool and bandaging she needed. A lock of black curly hair fell in front of her face. She puffed it away. Daniel knelt beside her and took hold of the dog's leg. It began to growl immediately, but Farmer Cane held onto the collar and kept speaking quietly. Angela held back the wince she wanted to make as she gazed upon the poor dog's leg. It was a lot better than she'd been expecting. When she'd received the emergency call of a dog trapped in a snare, she'd feared the worst – skin ripped off, muscle hanging by a thread. Funny, how the mind conjures the worst scenario's possible when faced with a crisis – as if to protect itself and then allow for the relief when the real problem is no where near as bad as what one thought. The Rottweiler's leg had a cut just above the joint of the wrist. Angela was confident it wouldn't need stitches, but it was best to get it bandaged up, at least.

The dog was still growling, clearly distressed. Angela's fear melted away as her brain entered a robotic-like trance. Emotion faded as she only perceived what could be observed, what could be done and ruling out what couldn't. In this state of mind, what she called 'vet-mode', she didn't hesitate to offer the dog's snarling mouth the back of her hand. She saw Farmer Cane tense but ignored him. The dog was surprised at her move but curiously gave her knuckles a sniff. A pause, and a slobbering pink tongue darted out. Taking his acceptance, Angela began her work. The wound caused the dog pain, for he twitched his leg away from her touch. But Daniel held him still.

"There we are, Mr Cane." She said at last as the bandage was secured in place. "Just needed a good clean and wrap up."

"Ah, be thankin' ya, miss." The relief on the farmer's face was heart-warming. Most farmers had affection for their dogs but still saw them as tools that needed to be used. It was touching to see the genuine affection Mr Cane had for his canine companion. "I tell ya, poor Bob was beside 'imself, he was! Couldn't stop cryin'. Woul'n't believe he'd bite yer hand off, eh?"

The dog – Bob – slowly got to his feet, only a slight tenderness in putting his paw down. Angela knelt in front of him, holding the back of her hand out again. After a second sniff, Bob came right into her petting hands. "Oh, he's a big sweetheart – aren't you, you handsome boy!"

"I can't make 'eads nor tails o' tha'…" Farmer Cane grumbled in amazement, his Hampshire accent thickening with the little volume. Sometimes Angela had to struggle to understand these people, even though she'd lived in the village of Ecchinswell for several years now. Her oxford-raised parents had insisted she speak the Queen's English, and unfortunately, that hampered her sometimes in understanding certain accents.

"She's got a way with 'em, Mr Cane." Daniel grinned. "Had a Yorskire Terrier in the other day–"

"Yappy were it?" asked the farmer with a roll of his eyes.

"Yeah. Nearly took mi fingers off. She comes in, and she's got him eatin' out her hand!"

"It's because none of you know how to speak the language." Angela chuffed, amused. "Right. That should do it 'till you get home. You're lucky you managed to get to him as the snare got tight. If he'd been too far away, it could've cut deep. I want you to bathe it in salt water, and if you think he's suffering in any way, give us a bell****** and we'll book you in ASAP."

Mr Cane shook her hand. "Thank ya fer comin' oot 'ere, miss. I know it's a bit outta yer way…"

"Being the only vet in three villages, I'm used to getting called out of the office."

Daniel shrugged. "And gives those of us left behind a chance to shine."

"Now," said Angela, serious. "If you spot any other snares, dismantle them and tell me. We need to know how many are out there."

"I'd be alrigh' wiv 'em puttin' 'em down if dogs didn't keep gettin' caught in 'em." Grumbled Cane. "Rabbits be eatin' my crops, they dig up my fields, they be spredin' disease to my Lucy's bunch. Can't get rid o' the blighters."

Angela frowned. "So you're offended at the idea of dogs getting caught in the traps, but not rabbits?"

"Never liked the ugly buggers," he spat. "Bob 'ere's been wiv me fer six years – best dog I've ever 'ad. I ain't gonna let nothin' nor no one take 'im away."

"Oi! Can I ask whattcha doin'?"

The voice had them all turning the hedge at the edge of the field. A man, just shy of forty but with a worn enough face to look older, stood at the gap in the shrubs. His brown hair was greasy, a shadow of stubble peppered his chin. He wore jeans and a coat that had seen better days. A golden cross hung from his neck and a small hoop earing hung from each ear.

"On yer way, boy." Said Mr Cane, suddenly tense and thunderous. "This be my land, I'll be askin' what yer doin' 'ere."

"I've come to collect my proper'y."

"Your property?" Angela echoed. The man's eyes darted to the hedges where the snare had been. The vet felt her irritation grow. Between the snare and his Irish accent, it was clear this was the Traveller that had been causing them grief. "You mean the snare?"

"I ain't sayin' nothin'." The Traveller said, lips curling in a sneer. "Best be movin' on, settlers*******. Or I'll set mi dogs on ye."

As if waiting in the wings for that moment, a second gypsy stepped out, almost identical to the first but a little younger, less wrinkled around the eyes. In each hand he held chain-leads to a pair of dogs, both such a mix Angela couldn't tell outright what the dominant breed was.

Cane held onto Bob's collar as the Rottweiler began to growl and snarl in an impressive display. "Just try it, son. Ye won't like it when Bob gives 'em what fer."

"He a fighter, is he?" the lead gypsy's eyes lit up with interest that made Angela's stomach churn. "Plenty big enough, and he's got that look about him."

"And he's none of your business." She snapped loudly. The men finally looked her way, but she refused to bow, not to their misogyny, and not to their attempts at intimidation. It was obvious from the snares that they were poaching rabbits and pheasants and whatever else they could get. Angela just hoped they weren't stupid enough to add dog-baiting to the list. "You're on private property. I say you clear off before I call the police."

"I ain't talkin' ta you, woman." He shrugged. "And if ya wanna run yer mouth, call yer little pigs. Me and my boys'll be happy ta see 'em."

Mr Cane was near enough ready to let Bob loose. Behind her, Daniel was near enough ready to challenge them to a duel to defend her honour. A fight would break out, and Angela knew they wouldn't win. You had to be hard as nails and unafraid of dying to take on gypsies. "Daniel, load up the car – we're leaving. Mr Cane? I suggest you get Bob home. He needs rest."

The two men seemed to listen to her cool command. Even as Daniel and Angela made a slow retreat back to their car, and Mr Cane back to his own, the farmer couldn't resist one last word. "I ain't 'avin' no gypos******** on my land. Get yer asses outta 'ere by sundown, or I warn ye now, I'll be comin' fer ya with mi gun."

The gypsy spat onto the ground. "Be lookin' forward to it, ya old goat."

"Mr Cane!" Angela shouted. "Let's go."

Through the rear-view-mirror, Angela didn't take her eyes off the gypsies nor Mr Cane's four-by-four until both were out of sight. Even after that there was a heavy silence in the car as she and Daniel had to allow their bodies to slowly work off the adrenaline of the situation.

But Daniel was a lad who never liked the quiet, he always had something to say to fill it. He puffed his cheeks loudly. "Well… that was intense…"

Angela didn't say anything, attempting to will the shake out of her fingers before Daniel could spot it.

"I think after that, I need a drink," her assistant proclaimed, rubbing the baby-haired goatee he was trying to grow. "You fancy comin' along? We could bring Jess. Make it a work-do."

The temptation was so strong, Angela could picture it clearly for a whole heartbeat: her, Daniel and Jess laughing in the pub, drinking, chatting, socialising, telling stories from their childhood. They would bond and they would laugh away the night. But didn't Daniel realise there were still lambs due on Farmer Croy's land? What if there was a complication and any one of them was needed at a moment's notice?

It wasn't the first time Angela had been invited to get-togethers like this. But when she'd told her disappointed parents she wanted to be a vet, she'd made a promise to put her career first. She needed to take her job seriously – there were too many responsibilities on her shoulders. She needed to keep her head afloat. Keep the business running, keep food in the house, a roof over her head. Survive first. So this time, just like many times before, she had to decline.

"Sorry, Daniel," she lamely replied, glancing down. "I've just got so much to do and…"

She didn't finish. She didn't need to. His dejected silence crushed her heart enough. He always knew when she lied. She always looked at her feet when she lied.

"What is…?" Daniel's voice was bewildered. He twisted in his seat to watch a sign as they passed it. Warning of roadworks closing the road for the next year. They'd have to take a diversion. "What on earth are they doin' here?"

"I heard they're building houses." Angela said, all too eager for the change of subject. "The local Council bought up a load of farmland."

"Oh yeah, Sandleford way, right?"

She shrugged. "Can't remember the name. Just think it's disgusting."

"How?" he asked. "That land weren't in any real use. With the housing crisis, we need as many as we can. My sister's been on the waiting list for a council-house for over a year!"

"Yes, I know," Angela stressed, trying to keep her voice level so that the debate wouldn't turn into an argument. "But think of all the wildlife that will be displaced? Our country has so few wild places as it is. If we need homes, why not tear down and renovate all the empty boarded up buildings in the towns and cities? There's plenty of them!"

"Yeah, but somebody, somewhere, owns those buildings. This new stuff belongs to the Council, which is then owned by the government. Plus, it would be too much money to tear down old buildings likely falling apart."

Angela's grip on the steering wheel tightened and she grit her teeth. "Because God forbid the world be run with kindness and not greed."

* * *

Once they'd gotten back to the surgery, Angela had dismissed Jess and allowed her and Daniel to start their night out early – no reason to spoil their fun. She could tell Daniel was fighting a battle with himself to again ask her to join them. But she couldn't be that woman for him; and Jess was clearly begging for any shred of affection. Angela had sworn off romance when she'd devoted herself to her career. It had taken every ounce of her pride to ask her parents for even a shred of help in starting up her own veterinary centre. She wouldn't throw that away through pointless complications like significant others, babies, families. She couldn't be the woman her parents wanted her to be. So she'd meet them half way and be a career woman instead.

Closing up the surgery, Angela thought to distract herself with a good night run. She'd always liked running. Ever since secondary-school, it had given her the chance to keep in shape and clear her mind. After a day like today, she needed it. With her village surrounded by farmland and the chalk downs beyond, she had plenty of choice to run free for an hour or two.

Her house was a tiny cottage at the edge of the little village of Ecchinswell. It wasn't much, with most of the windows always letting in a horrendous draft due to still being a hundred years old. She'd had to spend most of her profit last year on replacing the thatch roof with tiles – something she'd had to battle her landlord for tooth and nail. It was a quaint little place to burrow in for the night… but even after living here over half a decade, it felt cold and unwelcoming.

As she opened her front door, the landline was shrilly ringing. Racing in, Angela snatched up the receiver. Who would be calling at almost nine o'clock at night? "Hello?"

_"__Is that Vet Romford?"_ asked a voice half strangled with fright.

"This is she; who is this?"

_"__It's Mrs Cane! Tom's wife!"_ the woman on the phone cried shrilly. _"Oh! Ya gotta come quick, miss! It's them gypos! They've got our Bob! He's gone!"_

The woman's heart dropped before suddenly racing. "Mrs Cane! Did you see them take the dog? Have you informed the police?"

_"__Tom saw 'em do it! He's gone chasin' after 'em. Police said they're on their way – but Bob could be hurt. Ya gotta get there! They was headin' west outta the village–"_

"I'll try and get there as soon as I can!"

* * *

Angela's old and battered car roared in protest as she sped it down and through the winding country lanes. She didn't care. Still in her running gear and the cold of the night piercing into her body from where her heater was broken, she didn't care. The pounding of her heart refused to abate as she drove at such a speed any police would forgo the tickets and just put her straight in prison.

There were several roads out of Ecchinswell, but there was one main way that would get you out onto a duel carriageway. If the gypsies were fleeing with caravans, they couldn't go at speed on country lanes – the sharp turns would have their caravans rolling all across the road. Angela sped that way, half questioning her own sanity as she did so. She wasn't a policewoman. What business was it of hers to be out here chasing down potentially dangerous people?

Because an animal was in danger, that's why. Animals didn't have the voice to tell you when you hurt them. They didn't have a way to explain why they were scared. Animals suffered because of human-kind's inability to show sympathy for anyone but themselves. And Angela had always tried her best to alleviate that suffering. No matter where, no matter how, when she received the call, all rhyme and reason vanished from her head. Only the patient mattered.

Bright headlights shot through the back of her car. Angela had to wince at the beam reflecting into her eyes via the mirror. A car blared its horn loudly behind her as it came up close to her bumper at speed. A car pulling a caravan.

Angela felt her heart slam into her ribs. How had she managed to get ahead of them?! She pressed the accelerate as far down as she could. Her car groaned and complained, struggling to go any faster. The revs crept into the red. She looked frantically to either side of the road, trying to find a layby to pull into. A daring chase she wouldn't second guess – but not when _she_ was the one being chased! But in the dark, she couldn't see well enough to spot the laybys before they were gone.

The car behind slammed into the back of her. Angela jerked forward with a cry, almost bashing her head on the steering wheel. The car spluttered and swerved from the sudden force, but she managed to get control again. The woman looked around in fright for some sort of escape. A sign for a bridge flashed in her headlights, partially hidden by the brush at the side of the road. Angling the car as far to one side as possible, she felt the car shudder as half the tires slipped from tarmac to mud. If she made enough room, maybe they might squeeze past her!

A terrible screech from the sheering of metal and paint blasted in Angela's ears. Her car was shoved to the side and she screamed. The gypsy car tried to push its way up the side of hers, ramming into her side. The bridge was insight, old stone walls corralling traffic onto a narrow path. Angela panicked. The gypsy would crash her into the edge of the wall – a potentially fatal collision! She couldn't slam on the breaks because the wide caravan would simply push her along whether she liked it or not. With little other choice, she hit the accelerate again and pushed back against the other car, attempting to get in front again so that the pair of them could make it over the bridge. But then, she felt one last forceful blast against her side, and Angela couldn't get the wheel under her control in time.

She hit the wall, her body slammed against the door that crumpled in towards her and the glass that shattered in her face. Over two hundred years old, the wall of the bridge was flimsy and in disrepair and broke apart under the impact. Angela's seatbelt strangled her as it suddenly went taunt, locking her against the seat. She didn't even have time to register the feeling of weightlessness as her car flew through empty air. Only the bone-crunching slam of her body against her restraints when the car hit the water of the river.

For a moment, the world went dark, and when it came back, Angela's head was pounding and there was a rushing in her ears. It took her a moment to register that it wasn't her own heartbeat she could hear, it was water. Cold swept around her feat and up her legs. She blinked her eyes open – the river was quickly filling into the car! With a scream, Angela pulled on the belt-buckle. It resisted for a heart-stopping moment before it came away. She tried the door – jammed. The water was up to her stomach as it spilled in the broken window. Angela tried to shimmy herself up so that she might slip through the window herself. But the steering wheel had been bent in the collision, trapping her legs. Flailing, she tried to get free as the cold coiled higher and higher up her neck. She craned her head to the ceiling, gulping in whatever air was left – before it closed over her face.

Squirming and wriggling, Angela tried every angle to get her legs free. Glass sliced open her palms as she hooked herself on the window and attempted to pull herself out through it. Surely the river wasn't so deep above the roof of her car? If she could just stretch… Her lungs were burning, her hips aching… and it was so cold… so very cold…

She floated away. Had she gotten free? Breathing is such a fundamentally simple aspect of life that one often takes it for granted right up until the moment it is robbed from them. An urgency to just _breathe _fuelling her, Angela clawed her way towards air, to abandon this cold and make her way towards _life_!

Water burst out of her throat as she coughed. Something wet and sludgy stuck to her face. Had she made it to shore? An icy grip had such a hold on her she had gone past merely shivering. Eyes heavy, Angela attempted to look around, to move. Even when her brain was half drowned in the cold and the tiredness that came with it, some small rational part of her knew that she had to move, had to get warm. If she rested, as her aching body begged her to, she would die. And she really didn't want to die…

It occurred to Angela, when death seemed so close, that she had barely lived. An education dictated by her parents' expectations… a career put before everything in an attempt to appease them even when they were long gone… She'd tried to tell herself there would be time for socialising _later_, always _later_… and now there would be no time for that at all. She'd never have that drink with Daniel, she'd never form the friendships that she could look back on with fond memories.

_Let me live, _she prayed, _let me live and I won't ever take that for granted again!_

A rustle by her head. Angela blinked to try and focus her eyes. A black blob was sat by her head.

A voice came to her ears – there was someone close by! But it was a voice unlike any she'd ever heard. Neither male nor female, cold like the water she'd just escaped even if the words were gentle. "Such a fight to exist. To exist in exchange for living?"

The blob moved closer. Angela could make out long ears laid regally back against a curved spine. A rabbit? The speaker must be the owner – for surely, Angela had never seen a wild black rabbit of such beauty.

"Bargains, bargains. There are no bargains. For what is, is what must be." Said the voice.

"P-Please…" Angela could barely whisper. Couldn't her saviour see she would do anything they asked if only they would help her?

"Then it is settled." The voice mused. "You will be my eyes to see, my mouth to speak. Until once again you find that which you might seek."

A shiver crawled down Angela's spine, a tremble that had nothing to do with the cold of her body. Her eyes grew wide, able to see clearly all at once. The Black Rabbit peered straight into her eyes.

"Then take my cloak to warm yourself, child," offered the voice from above. "For it is too lovely a night to see such life go to waste…"

* * *

"I'll see you again, Bigwig! I promise you that!" They heard Captain Holly's voice call from across the river. "And next time, there won't be a river between us!"

Bigwig shook off his fur of the water, his large paws slipping slightly in the soil of the bank. "Oh, I'm counting on it!" he laughed – the kind that one makes when adrenaline from anger or fear (or perhaps both) was still pumping through your veins and the relief of still being alive makes one giddy.

With a bound he caught up with the other six, still a little unbelieving at the turn of the night's events. He had left the Owsla. They'd all left the warren. He still didn't know if this was really the right thing to do, joining Hazel and his odd little brother on their daring escape. If he stopped and thought about _exactly _what he'd just done, throwing away his entire life filled with privilege and authority, an up-and-coming Owsla officer… it was daunting. But something in his gut, like the whisper of Frith himself, urged Bigwig onwards, and he obeyed.

"Is everyone alright?" Hazel asked.

The others of their group nodded, tired from the night's events. They were all thinkers and outskirters; not Owsla, not fighters. It occurred to Bigwig that the only one who could keep them safe if they got into a fight, was him. Bigwig was the type of rabbit that liked it best when he was given a clear objective, and as of now, the protection of this little group was his new objective. He scratched at the tuft of black fur on the crown of his head – after which he had been named – a slight nervous habit that had stuck with him since he was a kit.

"Alright," said Hazel. "Let's keep moving south-east. We need put as much distance as we can between ourselves and Sandleford."

The others followed him without complaint. Bigwig took up the rear, checking over his shoulder to make sure neither Captain Holly nor his officers had braved the river.

Just after where they had crossed it, the river forked into two bends, one of which Hazel and the others followed beside it. The grass was tall and thick, and offered a way to hide should any _elil _be out hunting in the pre-dawn light. As the group made their way along, Hawkbit, a grey buck, suddenly swivelled his head.

"What's that? Over there?" he pointed his nose towards the river.

They all paused to try and get a good look at what Hawkbit had seen. Bigwig didn't have to crane his head up far to see over the others, being the biggest. On their side of the bank, washed up in the shallows and caught in the grass, lay a rabbit.

"Frith's mercy!" Hazel gasped and leapt down immediately towards the bank. Bigwig pushed his way through the others to get there as well. The two crouched over the rabbit, who lay unmoving. It was a doe, unconscious and half drowned. Her fur was as black as a midnight sky, so dark that for a moment both Bigwig and Hazel were afraid to touch her for fear that she was the Black Rabbit of Inlé – the rabbit of death. But her sides rose and fell with the breath of life, and she looked so pitiful with her fur soaked to the skin and a terrible shiver quivering her spine. A triangular patch of white fur was upon her chest, stained red with blood from one of her forepaws.

"Who is she?" asked the littlest of their group, Bluebell, as he tried to lean in as close as he could.

Bigwig pushed him back. "Give her some space to breathe, would you?"

"Is she from our warren? Maybe she tried to escape the Owsla to meet us?" asked Hawkbit, unable to take his eyes off the doe. Bigwig had heard stories in the Owsla of Hawkbit's relentless (and abysmal) pursuit of does back at Sandleford.

"I don't recognise her," said Blackberry, the eldest among them (though only by a few months), his ears tipped black. "Hazel, she's half drowned and needs help."

"But we can't stay here!" argued Bigwig. "Sooner or later, the Owsla might figure out a way to cross the river. If we're stuck in the open when they do…"

"We have to take her with us… She's important, somehow…" said a small voice. Fiver, Hazel's runt of a brother, was staring at the doe, his ears and nose all twitching like they did whenever he made the excuse he was having _'premonitions'._

"We can't leave her, Bigwig," Hazel implored. "She'll die if we do. Either through exposure or maybe an _elil_ might find her. Either way, we help."

There was such conviction in his voice, that this was the right thing to do and they needed to do it. Bigwig was almost impressed. Truth be told, he didn't want to leave the doe to die, it felt wrong. But he'd just sworn himself to the duty of protecting their little group. How could he do that if they were stuck out here…

"_Ugh, _fine!" he growled. "There's a small burrow down the river. Owsla on patrol hide there if they get caught out in bad weather. We can take her there until she wakes up – but I'm warning you, Hazel: we need to keep moving. As soon as possible."

Hazel nodded, and the two of them set about attempting to help the poor doe. It was decided to lay her on Bigwig's back, him being the only one strong enough to carry her to the burrow. But as they set about moving her, the doe's eyes shot open as wide as if she had _the fear_ taking hold of her. They were the most shockingly green eyes Bigwig had ever seen – brighter than even Hazel's. Her breath quickened and she squirmed and clawed about weakly.

"It's alright, you're safe!" said Hazel as he and Bigwig attempted to hold her down before she hurt them or herself.

"Hey!" Bigwig said, louder. The volume seemed to shock her back to herself, for the doe fixed her extraordinary eyes on Bigwig. He found himself frozen in her stare for a moment. Clearing his throat, he asked in a softer voice: "What's your name?"

At first, she did nothing but pant. And then, in a weak and hoarse tone, she said: "A-Angela…"

And then she collapsed.

* * *

*** - There are two well known types of gypsies: the Romani people and Travellers. In the UK, most gypsies are Irish Travellers, and whilst it is technically correct to call them "Travellers" instead of "gypsy", to most of the British public, they use Traveller and Gypsy interchangeably.**

**** - 'give us a bell' is a way of saying 'ring me'.**

***** - 'settlers' is what Travellers call people not of the Traveller community.**

****** - 'Gypo' is a slur in Britain used for Gypsies/Travellers. It is an insult and derogatory term and it is NEVER recommended to say it to a gypsy's face.**


	2. The Black Rabbit

**Author's Note: A BIG thank you to everyone who reviews, favourited and followed this story! It really makes my day to see people enjoying this story as they do! I hope to continue earning your enthusiasm as this story goes on. **

**I perhaps should have explained at the beginning of last chapter, that because this story is set in England, and being English myself, this story will be filled with British sayings, idioms and turn-of-phrases that people might not understand. If I put something in that I feel people might have trouble understanding, I will mark it with a * and then provide an explanation at the bottom of the chapter.**

**As for Guest reviewer who left no name: the Gypsies in this story are not my main villains. They are simply a catalyst used to drive the plot, and a way to differentiate this story from others of its kind on this website. The Gypsies here are Irish Travellers - there are types of gypsies, the Romani people and Travellers. In the UK, most gypsies are Irish Travellers, and whilst it is technically correct to call them "Travellers", to most of the British public, they use Traveller and Gypsy interchangeably. **

**And lastly, thank you to iloveDracoDH for being my Beta.**

* * *

The Black Rabbit

Bigwig groaned as he slid the doe's weight off his back. It wasn't that she weighed too much for him, but a deadweight was still inconvenient to heft, especially when he had to go slow so that she wouldn't fall off. Stepping back from the doe, he rolled his shoulders to work out the ache in his now sore muscles.

They'd found the burrow Bigwig had spoken of, little more than a singular tunnel wide enough for three rabbits to stand abreast. All seven of them crowded in, with the doe taking up much of the space at the back. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do for now until either the doe awoke, or it reached mid-morning. There would be less _elil _at that time.

Hazel sniffed at the doe's head, but she hadn't stirred once since that small outburst by the river. "What did you say her name was again, Bigwig?"

"Angela," he said. How could he forget it when she'd said the word whilst peering into his eyes so intently?

"Rather odd name for a rabbit…" muttered Dandelion, Hawkbit's best friend.

"Angela?" Hazel called out to her, nudging her with his nose. "Angela, can you hear me?"

"Um, a-are we sure we want to be waking her at all?" Bluebell squeaked, his bright blue eyes wide and his silver fur trembling. "I mean – look at her! What if she's…" he clamped his mouth shut, and then said in an exaggerated whisper: "The Black Rabbit of Inlé?"

"Nonsense." Bigwig was quick to say. "There's no such thing." Deep in his heart, however, he wasn't sure. All the old stories of Frith and El-ahrairah, he believed in as any rabbit did; they were part of their culture. But a monstrous black rabbit that came for the dying and lived in a burrow of bones and disease? _That,_ Bigwig tried his hardest _not _to believe in.

"But look at her fur!" Bluebell insisted. "I've never seen a rabbit as black as that."

"You've got to admit," Hawkbit said quietly. "It is a little uncanny…"

"Now that's enough." Hazel admonished them with a disapproving look. "Poor thing's been through enough without waking up to you lot whispering about her."

"Yes, Bluebell," said Blackberry snootily. "It's more than likely she's a hutch rabbit. Their sort are always oddly coloured thanks to man."

"Fiver was the one who said we should bring her…" muttered Hawkbit.

Dandelion shoved him. "And it was _you_ as well!"

"Fiver?" Hazel asked softly. "Do you have any idea why this doe was out there in the river?"

Bigwig rolled his eyes. Hazel was too soft on his brother, believing in visions that were the product of little more than an overactive imagination in a rabbit skittish of his own shadow.

Fiver stared at the doe, as if his eyes were trying to burn through her. Then he shuddered and shook his head. "I… I can't see anything clearly, Hazel. Something is trying to come through to me, but it's… i-it's like she's foggy, barely visible. But… you're there, Bigwig."

That got his attention. "Me?"

"Her paws… they're over your mouth… around your throat…" Fiver shook his head violently. "I-I'm not sure. It's not clear."

Silence. Even Bigwig found it hard to move on after a deep chill had settled over his body. And then, almost a little too loudly, Hawkbit said: "All those in favour of leaving the creepy doe here say 'Aye'?"

"_Urgghh…" _

They all startled at the noise. The doe was waking, shuffling her paws to try and push herself up. Her eyes fluttered open and closed, allowing them all to catch a glimpse of those bright green eyes. Her ears drooped and she winced in pain. A root brushed her shoulder, and she stared at it, as if wondering how it got there. Puzzlement pinched her face as she glanced all around the burrow.

"What in the…" she murmured in a voice Bigwig could barely hear, her deep rich voice only a little hoarse still. The way she moved her body made it appear that she was attempting to sit on her tail, moving in a very un-rabbit-like way. But she stopped with a wince. "Bloody hell, I ache… what happened…?"

Hazel tentatively stepped towards the doe. Bigwig tensed, ready for danger, though he tried to tell himself there was none. It was just Fiver's words getting under his skin. "Hello – Angela, is it?" at his voice, the doe looked up and blinked her eyes wide, as if noticing them all for the first time. "It's alright, just take it easy. You had an accident and–"

"_AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGHHH!" _the doe screamed. She leapt to her feet and scrambled back against the end of the burrow. The rabbits winced at the loud and shrill noise assaulting their ears. Bigwig was the first to leap into action. Didn't the idiot realise her screaming could bring foxes or other enemies down on them?!

With a pounce, he tried to set himself upon her, but the doe dashed free of him in the last moment. She didn't get far. The burrow wasn't wide or deep, and with all the others blocking the entrance there was nowhere for her to bolt. Finally, Bigwig pinned her to the floor.

"Hush your mouth!" he scolded her. "We aren't going to hurt you!"

"Bigwig, stop! You're scaring her more!" said Hazel.

The doe had finally stopped screaming, but she looked around them all as if she were petrified. Bigwig slowly raised himself off of her, but did not move away very far, in case he had to intervene again. The doe instantly scrambled back to her feet and pushed herself as far away from all of them as she could get. Hazel crept towards her slowly, ears pinned back to make himself appear non-threatening.

"It's alright," he said. "There's nothing to be afraid of…"

"Y-You're rabbits!" she hissed. "Rabbits can't talk!"

Bigwig and Hazel shared a look. Maybe Blackberry's idea of her being a hutch rabbit wasn't too far out. Would a hutch rabbit who had lived in isolation be a plausible explanation for this behaviour? Hazel turned his attention back to her. "I can assure you, we do talk. You have nothing to fear from us, Angela–"

"How do you know my name?!"

"You told me," said Bigwig.

"Would you like to know our names?" Hazel asked. "I'm Hazel, this is Bigwig. The little one here is my brother, Fiver. And this is Blackberry and Bluebell. And back there is Dandelion and Hawkbit."

Some nodded or voiced their greetings: "hello!" and "how do you do." Whilst others kept quiet, still timid of the doe.

"We found you washed up in the river," continued Hazel. "Do you know what happened to you? Why you're out here?"

The doe, Angela, closed her eyes as if a headache pierced her brain. Her breathing quickened, and it was obvious to Bigwig she was panicking again. "This has to be a dream! This _has _to be a dream! I-I was in the car, and then… there was a crash… but I thought I got out of the river… how–"

And then her eyes opened, and she looked down at her paws. She froze. Hardly noticeable at first but quickly growing, Angela trembled. A snail would be proud of the slowness with which she raised her paws and wiggled her claws. Her mouth fell open to scream but no sound came out. Frantic, leaning up, she looked over herself, her stomach, hind legs; spinning on the spot she checked her tail. Her paws brushed her face, her whiskers, pulled on her ears.

"W-W-what's going on?!" she shrieked. "What's happened to me?! I'm a rabbit!"

All the bucks looked to one another, confused. Hawkbit shrugged. "Errr… Yes?"

"I'm not supposed to be a rabbit!" she cried. "I'm human!"

Silence.

Dandelion slowly leaned towards Bluebell and whispered: "She's insane…"

Angela narrowed her green eyes on Dandelion in a look so fierce, the buck quaked and hid from her sight. "I am _NOT _insane! My name is Angela Romford. I'm a vet from the village of Ecchinswell, I'm _human!"_

"What's a _vet_?" asked Bluebell.

"A human doctor for animals."

Hazel frowned. "And what is a _doctor_?"

"A healer!" she growled in frustration. "A human who heals animals of sickness and injury. Is that specific enough?"

Laughter burst from Bigwig's throat, but it was not a sound made out of merriment. "Man? Helping us? That'll be the day."

The doe stepped towards him, furious. "I am telling the truth!"

What little amusement Bigwig had at the situation, vanished. He stalked towards the doe, and she backed up quickly in fright. "Then explain how you're a rabbit right now, as black as the rabbit of Inlé himself, right before my eyes!"

Those green eyes flickered away from his, avoiding his gaze. Her chest pumped as her breath quickened. Her ears folded back against her shoulders in distress. "I… I don't know. I was… I was in the car. There was a crash – and then the river. I made it to shore, but… I don't know what happened."

"Come on, Bigwig, that's enough." said Blackberry. "It's obvious the poor thing's been through a lot. Maybe spending so much time with man has confused her?"

"Hutch rabbit or not," said Dandelion, "Are we sure it's the best idea to take her with us?"

Hawkbit looked to his friend as if he'd turned green. "Well, we have to. Has no one but me noticed that we have no does in our little group?"

The others all looked amongst themselves, muttering as if they _had _only just noticed the lack of females. Bluebell nodded. "I didn't think of that… We'll need a doe if we're going to build a new warren."

Angela took a moment to catch on to their meaning and then shied away from them all in disgust. "I beg your pardon! You can't just… just _kidnap me! _Take me off to some warren and then force me to–to–"

"No one's forcing you to do anything, Angela," Hazel assured her. "None of us would ever be that depraved. You have my word. But we're leaving. We need to find a new home, and it would be a lot safer for you if you came with us."

She snorted. "And why should I trust any of you?"

Bigwig stepped beside Hazel. "You can either come with us," he said in a none too gentle tone. "Or, you can find your own way. I guarantee a fox or a hawk or any other _elil _will pick you off before sunset. Your choice."

He could see she was torn. There was a genuine distraught look in her eyes that made Bigwig's heart soften. But he had to keep his composure. This doe, as strange as she was, needed to make up her mind and fall in line. He wasn't going to let anyone die on his watch because she couldn't deal with the situation.

Finally, she sighed, shoulders sagging. "Alright. I'll come with you. I know the odds of a rabbit surviving the wilds alone." Standing tall, she nodded, and added in a voice Bigwig was sure no one else was meant to hear: "Besides, if this is just a dream, I might as well go along with it until I wake up."

"Alright then everyone," said Hazel. "Let's get a move on."

Bigwig went to follow the others out, when they heard a heavy _thud_ behind them. He paused and glanced back. Angela had fallen face first into the dirt. Ears reddening in embarrassment, she hurriedly picked herself up, watching her paws closely. She took a careful step, then another, then hopped her two back legs. The momentum was too much and she tripped over her own feet. She crashed again. Bigwig sent Hazel a _very _unimpressed glare.

"I'm alright!" Angela's voice was muffled by the dirt as she stood up. "Just need to get the hang of how to move this body…"

Bigwig groaned to himself. Hazel looked on the doe half with pity and half confusion. He wanted to help her but didn't know how. Bigwig shoved past him out of the burrow and left them both to it.

Suddenly it felt like their upcoming journey was going to be a _long _one – and they still didn't even know where they were going.

* * *

Breathe, blink, walk.

This was the chant Angela told herself over and over, in a desperate attempt to not descend into a panic attack. The edge was right there in front of her, waiting for her to jump so that she could start hyperventilating and shrieking and sobbing all at once. Over and over she attempted to reason with herself that this was a dream. More than likely she'd fallen unconscious when she'd crashed and was now in a coma in a hospital bed. She'd had a tumultuous week, and now her brain was supplying her with a movie of its own design. People often had dreams like this, right? Dreams where they thought they could fly, or breathe underwater. Who's to say that this wasn't a similar thing.

One might consider it rather odd of her to prefer to believe she was lying comatose on a bed and the threat of being stuck in a dream, rather than accept this as reality. The heat of the sun nagged at her that this was realistic. The slight pinch of rocks on the pads of her feet further tried to assure her this was real. The life-like pull and contraction of muscles and skin that hadn't been there before tried to persuade her it was real.

Nope! She told herself. All fake. All a dream.

She followed the rabbits that had unceremoniously decided for her that she would go with them. If these were the cast and characters of her dream, then she might as well get to know them. Considering she might get compensation from insurance and lawsuits she fully planned on pursuing, she'd have all the time in the world to write a book. Maybe these rabbits could help inspire her?

The rabbits had typical names based on food, like Blackberry; or flowers, like Dandelion and Bluebell. The only exception to this rule was Bigwig and Fiver, the largest and smallest members of the group, respectfully. Angela didn't have much of an opinion on most of the rabbits so far. Bluebell was talkative and a jokester with the others, but whenever he glanced her way he seemed to grow a little timid. Blackberry was the smarty-pants, but he was also very quiet. Dandelion hardly said two words. And Hawkbit was the nay-sayer but also an impossible flirt. He'd attempted to talk with Angela as they walked several times. Mostly she politely nodded as he rambled, tuning him out.

The three main rabbits were the ones that held her attention. Fiver was skinny and small with mismatching eyes – one gold and one blue. Angela suspected that he was likely the runt of his litter, and as such hadn't had much access to food, judging by how small he was. He was almost child-like in that respect, and certainly the other rabbits treated him as if he were a child. He was quiet most of the time, and often startled himself over the smallest thing. A nervous Nerys*****. Angela often felt sorry for him, knowing that he would be the one most likely picked off should they come across any predators. But then, sometimes Fiver would look at her, and Angela would feel a shiver come over, like someone walking over her grave.

Fiver's brother, Hazel, often kept him close at his side. It was clear that the others looked to Hazel as the leader of their merry band. He was basically a larger version of Fiver, with the same colouring of black-on-brown, except his eyes were not mismatched; a regular leaf-green. Hazel was nice, if a little uncertain of himself. It was obvious he didn't want the responsibility of being in charge, because he always tried to pass off decisions as group contributions.

That was where Bigwig came in. The biggest rabbit of them all, he knew it and used it to his advantage. He pushed everyone at a steady pace, often using his size to intimidate the others into moving. His face was scratched up with scars, and the way he talked about keeping everyone safe all suggested that he was used to fighting. His fur was the lightest, a golden or buttercream that faded into an almost grey on his back. Between his ears was a tuft of black fur – Angela supposed his parents had been very unimaginative when coming up with names. He hadn't spoken to Angela much, but she often caught him glancing at her from the corner of his amber eyes.

"Of course, Dandelion and me came along on this trip – actually, it was more me leading Dandelion," Hawkbit was telling her as they moved through the hedges and entered a fallow field, the grass nearly as high as the rabbit's backs. "You know, we wanted _adventure_, a-and _excitement! _Not too much, obviously. But, you know how it is for young bucks with no attachments."

Dandelion poked his golden head beside hers and whispered, "Please tell him to shut up. He won't stop unless you do."

Hawkbit glowered at his friend. "I was talking to her first, Dandelion!"

A twig snapped somewhere to their left. One of Angela's long ears reflexively twitched towards the sound. Her stomach churned at the thought of her body doing very rabbit-like things without her consent. But she still gazed at where her new super-hearing had indicated the sound had come from. A little sparrow flew out of the hedge, winging its way towards the other side of the field. Following it with her eyes, Angela was reminded that they kind of needed to be on the look out for any threats from above.

She was still firmly of the opinion that this was a dream. All the same, she didn't want this developing into a nightmare. And she'd heard a rumour once that dying in one's dreams can have serious consequences in the real world – heart attacks and going into shock being the best scenarios.

"Um, hey, everybody?" she called out, hesitant to stray from the shadow of the hedge. "Shouldn't we be at least a little concerned that hawks or kites or buzzards might be about? Won't we be exposed out here?"

"It's alright, Angela," Hazel said. "We can't smell anything nearby, and we need to rest and _silflay_ for a while. Come on. You'll need your strength for the journey ahead."

Hawkbit rolled his eyes. "However long that journey might be…"

"Well…" she dared to step out from the hedge, slowly at first. "If you see a dancing stoat, don't look, run. They do that to distract you. And we need constant eyes on the sky – owls have specialised serrated edged feathers to enable silent flight."

"You seem to know an awful lot about the _elil_." Said Bigwig, eyeing her.

She shrugged. "It's my job to know."

The others all began to make themselves comfortable munching on the stalks of grass and the dandelions here and there. Angela watched and waited. She glanced at the sky and then at the hedges surrounding the field. Her tail twitched, and she almost shrieked at the foreign sensation. Indecision always made her fidget.

Bluebell was the first to notice her still sat there, not joining them. Trying to get over his nerves, he spoke up. "Aren't you going to eat, um, Angela?"

Angela glanced around, her ears burning in place of her cheeks that would've blushed if she were human. "Oh. Um. Yes. I just thought Hazel said we were doing… _silflay?_"

"Good gracious," Blackberry gawked as if he'd committed the most mortifying sin. His black-tipped ears swivelled about. "I forgot! She's a hutch rabbit. She probably doesn't know Lapine very well, and we've been speaking it so casually. I'm so sorry, Angela! You must think we're awfully rude."

The former-woman cocked her head, ears tilted with curiosity. "What's Lapine?"

"The mother-tongue of the rabbits. The tongue of El-ahrairah himself." Proclaimed Bigwig proudly, leaning to one side so his back foot could scratch his neck. "It's the old language. All rabbits know it."

Angela's brows furrowed. "Well _this one _doesn't."

"It's very easy to pick up," assured Blackberry. "_Silflay, _means to eat above ground. To graze. To eat outside."

"And _elil?_"

Bluebell shuddered. "Enemies of rabbits. Our hunters. Foxes, hawks, wolves, weasels, all of them are the _elil_."

Angela tried to push all thoughts of _elil _out of her mind as she joined the others in their feeding. It was just one more reason she clung to the idea of this all being some demented dream – _don't think like that, you __**know **__this is a dream! _Wild rabbits tended to live short lives filled with constant terror. Nearly every carnivorous animal in the UK hunted rabbits. They were so numerous they could easily be the main food source for many different predators. Unfortunately for those rabbits, that meant living a life filled with perpetual fright. Just even thinking of all the animals that could be staring at her right now, licking their chops at the thought of killing her, made Angela feel faint – dream or not.

Pushing those thoughts out of her head, Angela went to eat before realising that she was hunkering down to eat _grass._ She paused, unsure on how to feel about this. On one hand it was a dream, so who cares? On the other, it seemed so odd, almost repulsive, to eat grass of all things. She knew humans _could _eat it, but it wasn't very appetising.

Curiously nibbling on a stalk, she was surprised at the taste on her tongue – she hadn't expected it to be sweet – as well as the automatic ferocious hunger that demanded she eat as much as she could as fast as she could. She obeyed her stomach, eating everything she could reach. After a while, the taste grew bland, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. In the back of her mind she lamented how she couldn't dig into a cheeseburger at that very second. Just imagining a McDonalds Big Mac made her mouth salivate around the blades sticking out of her mouth.

"So…" said Hawkbit, the first person to break the silence. "Where is it we're going, Hazel?"

A few of the others popped their heads up to stare at Hazel expectantly, Angela included. Through Hawkbit's nattering all this morning, as well as the bits of information they'd revealed when she'd woken up, Angela gathered that these rabbits were deserters from their old warren. Perhaps it had been overpopulated or there hadn't been enough does to satisfy them. Either way, they had split off to start their own colony. But _where _that colony would be was still up for debate…

Hazel's ears flattened against his back, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. "Well," he began hesitantly. "I guess we'll keep heading south-east. Put as much distance between ourselves and our old warren as possible. Then we'll need to just… search for a place to call home."

"It will be on a high hill," murmured Fiver, his eyes gathering a far-off look as if he were staring into the great oblivion of a black hole. "A haven. Where the winds carry all the scents, and you can see until the ends of the earth…"

Angela frowned. That was strange both in how vague it was yet specific in other ways at the same time. Was Fiver usually this imaginative and just blurted out his daydreams? From the looks of the others, who rolled their eyes or looked at Fiver as if he were mentally handicapped, they didn't take much stock in his words.

"You promised us a better life, Hazel," said Bigwig. "You had best not be leading us to our deaths based solely on the nightmares of your brother."

The vet-in-rabbit-fur looked between each of them, opening her mouth to ask for more context on what they were all talking about, but not wanting to interrupt.

"Won't be too much worry when we get there," shrugged Hawkbit. "Wherever we end up, we'll be fine, now that we have a doe."

But _that _got her to speak up. "Excuse me?"

"Does dig the burrows." He said as if this should be completely obvious.

Angela felt the fur along her back prickle as her hackles rose. Anger simmered beneath the surface, though she tried to keep a lid on it. "You expect me to dig you a whole burrow, on my own?"

Hazel must've seen her reaction for he quickly attempted to cool it. "No, Angela, no one expects you to do the digging all by yourself–"

"Did it occur to any of you," she said, pushing past Hazel to glower at Hawkbit, "that I might not know the first thing about building a warren? I've never dug a hole in my life, let alone know how to apply structural engineering to one!"

"W-well, there's still time to learn," Blackberry edged in. "We have the entire journey to teach you – and we don't even know where we'll end up. Don't worry, we'll have you acting like a true rabbit in no time."

"And what if I don't want to be a rabbit?!"

She finally snapped. The panic attack came in full force. Her heart was crashing against her chest. She felt dizzy. Terror, a sense of great impending doom looming over her shoulder like a grim reaper, squeezed her so tightly she could barely breathe. She had to move, pacing back and forth in an attempt to work it out of her system, even when her toes felt numb.

"This is a dream – a dream!" she yelled at herself. "I'm human! I've always been human. I'm Angela Romford of Ecchinswell. I'm a vet. I'm _not _a rabbit! And you lot disregarding that I'm trying to _adjust _to all of this is very upsetting! Just awful behaviour! Thank god you're just a dream!"

A shadow fell over her as Bigwig rushed into her face. He stood nose to nose with her, glowering angrily. Even in her glitching mind, Angela managed to recognise the height difference between them. Throughout the day, she noticed that she was just about as tall as the Bucks, maybe a centimetre off. Bigwig was the only one she had to actually look _up _at, even if not by all that much.

"Angela," he growled out, "you will get a hold of yourself! Your hysterics might bring unwanted attention down on us."

"So what?" she spat back. "If I get chewed on by a stupid _elil_, at least this dream will be over–"

"And you will stop it with these delusions! You are a doe. Not a human. If you keep on insisting otherwise, I will only assume you've gone mad and _put you out of your misery!"_

"You dare threaten–!?"

"I will if you endanger the rest of us with your shrieking!"

Angela opened her mouth to argue, but found that she couldn't move. She stared into Bigwig's glittering and brilliant orange-gold eyes, transfixed and frozen. And then, right beside her ear, she heard a voice. A voice like frozen water, as deep as oceans, a voice that slithered down her spine and made the world colder in its presence. It whispered to her:

"_Blinded by pride,_

_Blinded by a liar;_

_Fear a noose to hide_

_And a noose of wire…"_

Just as quickly as it arrived, the voice vanished. Angela felt her limbs go weak, and she nearly collapsed. She expelled the breath she hadn't even realised she'd been holding. Gazing around, she attempted to find the culprit of the voice. "Who said that?" The others stared at her, terrified. "Did you hear the voice?"

Bluebell visibly trembled beside Blackberry. "I-It was y-you, Angela…"

She frowned. "I didn't say a word."

"Yes, you did," Bigwig said in a voice barely above a whisper. Angela turned, and was startled to see Bigwig appear petrified. His ears were pressed back against his head, and he leant away from her, as far as he could get. "You went _tharn_, and then you spoke with a voice that wasn't your voice…"

Angela looked from one rabbit to the next, frantic to find one of them giggling at her expense, revealing it to be a joke. But none of them did. They all just stared at her, horrified.

* * *

By the time of early evening when the damp began to set in, the group of rabbits managed to find a place to rest for the night. An old oak tree sprouted between the fields, half dead and rotting, yet its roots had been excavated by some creature of the past. It might have been too exposed for the rabbits' liking, but it would serve them well enough to protect them from foxes and the like. Hazel and the others all piled in together to share body-warmth as the cold night swept in.

Angela refrained from joining them. All throughout the rest of the day, the others had been avoiding her. She could see they were frightened, but she didn't know what to tell them. What could she tell them? That she'd heard someone speak inside her mind that rhymed in a voice of winter and death?

So instead, she sat above ground, all alone and shivered at the occasional breeze that buffeted her fur. Sitting there as she was, any human would be hard pressed to spot her, for her black coat blended with the darkness perfectly; the shimmering and moving hairs blending her in with the motion of the grass.

Too miserable to move and too cold to sleep, poor Angela sat there attempting to urge herself to wake up from this nightmare. Alone amongst strangers who were frightened of her, in a dream she couldn't understand, the trauma of the accident running through her head, cold, hungry and confused, Angela believed herself to be the loneliest person in the world at that very moment.

A scuffle of paws in the dirt; her ear twitched. It was Fiver, creeping out of the tree roots to sit beside her. When Angela glanced at him, Fiver did his best not to react. Under the moonlight, her eyes, already a brilliant green in the daylight, flashed like a cat's. Most rabbits' eyes glowed at night, but that was usually when a human shined a light upon them that their eyes reflected the shine back. They were not personally aware of it. Angela's eyes needed no prompting. Fiver decided to ignore it, for she hadn't noticed it and it would be cruel to alienate her further because of it.

He hunched down beside her, his side brushing hers, sharing the warmth he had enjoyed with the others. Angela glanced at him, wanting to thank him but could only muster a few words: "Was it really me? I heard a voice."

Fiver nodded. "It was like another had stepped into your body. Your voice was not your own. You were frozen, petrified stillness; what we call _tharn_."

"That's comforting…" she sighed. "They all hate me now."

"I wouldn't say that." She looked at him, confused. "We rabbits live short lives, so we tend to move on from things rather quickly. They can't understand something so much bigger than them like humans turning into rabbits or voices that's not yours speaking from your mouth. They barely could comprehend Blackberry's idea to float across the river."

The more Fiver spoke, the more confident he seemed to grow in what he was talking about. Usually those that are normally spoken over tend to flourish unexplainably when they finally find someone willing to listen. Even Fiver was surprised at himself.

"But you do?" Angela asked.

"N-no," he stammered, growing more unsure once again. "Not fully. But I think I can tell because we are the same, you and I. We are touched by the Beyond."

"What does that mean?"

"I… _see _things. In my head, things that happen or have yet to happen. They're in my dreams, in my thoughts. It's how I knew something bad was going to happen to our old warren, and why we had to leave as soon as we could."

"But I don't see things," said Angela. "Earlier today, I didn't even realise I was talking – I thought it was someone else."

"We aren't… _exactly_ the same," he agreed. "When I saw you, Angela, there was something about you I could not see. I still cannot see clearly, nor understand it. It's like you're obscured by a fog, and I must wait for it to clear before I can see it fully." He looked to her. "But I know when to recognise the touch of the Beyond. And you have it. Whether it be the work of Frith, or the Black Rabbit or El-ahrairah himself, I don't know. But I _do _know that you're not dangerous, or delusional, or mad."

Angela didn't quite know what to say. She didn't want to discourage little Fiver, for he was the only one being nice to her. And even though so many unbelievable things had happened to her today… somehow, she couldn't jump the mental gymnastics to believe Fiver saw visions. The Vet in her needed evidence to explain what kind of brain condition he might have. Maybe it was a form of schizophrenia that caused hallucinations? Could rabbits even have schizophrenia?

"It's okay," said Fiver quietly. "I know you don't believe me."

Angela shrugged half-heartedly. "Well, apparently, rabbits can talk; who's to say they can't be psychic too?"

She didn't mean to be harsh or unfeeling. But she felt so tired, so bitter, the words were just a quiet sarcastic comment for herself. But Fiver heard the words anyway, and his ears drooped. Too absorbed in her own misery to notice, Angela hunched over herself until her chin nearly touched the ground. "I just feel so alone. So scared…"

Fiver watched her and knew there were no words he could say to help her. He gently bumped her side with his. "Don't stay out here too long." He went to move back into the warmth and relative safety of the tree roots, when he paused and said over his shoulder: "And don't mind Bigwig. He might say many things, but he just wants to protect us. He does have a softer side."

Angela snorted. "Wish I could believe that."

Unbeknownst to her, in amongst the roots just one of the many bodies huddled together, Bigwig lay awake, his ear turned in her direction, listening to every word…

* * *

*** - 'Nervous Nerys' is originally from the British sitcom "Only Fools and Horses", but is now used as a way to describe someone who is especially skittish or startles VERY easily. **


	3. Language of Storytellers

Language of Storytellers

Angela slept fitfully that night. After attempting to huddle down with the others and get comfortable, she still woke at every little noise her sensitive ears could pick up. By the time dawn came and the others began to stir, she felt twice as exhausted than if she had gotten no sleep at all. At least the others weren't rushing to get off right away and allowed themselves some breakfast. Oh, how Angela wished for a cup of coffee…

But soon enough, they were moving on again. The day was bright, perfect May weather – for Britain. But on the horizon, Angela could see dark clouds gathering. It might rain, and the thought of being stuck out here with no dry, warm place to stay in… it further dampened her spirits. In an attempt to take her mind off of how utterly miserable she was, Angela listened to the conversations around her. The other rabbits seemed to know how to pass the time. They all spoke and bantered with each other easily. Even the more timid Bluebell began to say more than two words to her as the day went on. It was as Fiver had said, the rabbits all moved on from their troubles rather quickly.

"Everybody, listen up!" Bluebell exclaimed to the group. They were passing between fields, using the tracks of tractors to more easily traverse the countryside. "Now that I'm official storyteller (I've decided I'm the official group storyteller, by the way), I'll have to make it into a legendary tale."

"Legendary tale?" Angela smiled, amused.

"Oh yes!" Bluebell nodded excitedly. "The story of how Hazel led our escape from the rampaging Owsla, how he dared to cross over the raging rapids!"

Hazel ducked his head sheepishly. "It was Blackberry who had the idea…"

"Yeah," Bluebell shrugged, "but you were the one who stayed calm and led us on our way. I tell you, he is what I call a Chief Rabbit. Hazel-rah!"

"Hazel-rah? Chief rabbit?" Bigwig laughed. "Frith in a wasp's nest! The day I call you Chief Rabbit, Hazel, that'll be the day! I'll stop fighting that day, and all."

Angela looked between the rabbits, and when none offered an explanation readily, she turned to Blackberry. "Why put a _rah _at the end of his name? Is it another Lapine thing?"

_"__Rah_ means _prince_, Angela." Said Blackberry. "It is a title given to chief rabbits."

"Oh…" and just because she was bored, as they walked on, she said: "What other words in Lapine can you teach me?"

"Well, there's a _Hlessi_," said Bigwig as he unexpectedly came up on her other side. Was it her imagination, or was he being a little less hostile today? "What you'd call a lone rabbit, homeless, a wanderer. Not the sort you want to mix with. They're either cowards or traitors."

"But then, aren't you all _Hlessi?" _The entire group stopped and stared at her, incredulous. "What? I didn't mean it in a bad way! It's just, you're all wandering out here. You're running from your old warren…"

"That's different."

"We had no choice, Angela," said Hazel softly. "There was danger coming to our warren–"

"What kind of danger?" they kept mentioning it, but no one had yet explained it to her.

Everyone looked to Fiver, who shied away from the attention. Bluebell shuffled awkwardly on his paws. "Well, um… we don't know. Fiver never did tell us."

"I don't know what it was," Fiver pleaded, "but it was something foul and fierce and if we hadn't left, we'd all be dead. I know that much for certain."

Angela could easily believe that Fiver believed in his own premonition, for he shook like a leaf at the mere mention of his old home. But the others… "Fiver had a vision and you all… followed him?"

"My thoughts exactly…" Bigwig grumbled.

They travelled on for a while, silence coming over the group. Angela was once again taken over by boredom. Her muscles were strong and adapting but they were also tired – she'd never walked (or in this case, hopped) for so long before. Sure, being a vet meant she was on her feet for most of the day, and she did love to run every day. But that was different to constantly moving like this. More than anything, she wished for a radio. Music would really help to pass the time. She only wished this dream wasn't taking its sweet time before it reached its conclusion. Surely she should be waking up soon?

Her long ears twitched as she heard hushed voices behind her. Hawkbit and Blackberry had their heads together. Hawkbit must have found something to moan about: "I mean, I know we have to find a new home, but we're like sitting ducks out here in the open. And why does it have to be so far away?"

Blackberry, ever the diplomat in any situation, tried to give the bunny version of a shrug. "I guess because Fiver says."

"_'__because Fiver says'_? Fiver says a lot of things. What if Fiver says jump out of a bush and tickle a wolf? _Because Fiver says!"_

"Hazel's no fool, Hawkbit." Blackberry reasoned. "He knows that we need to take Fiver with a pinch of salt every now and then."

Neither rabbit had noticed Fiver behind them, he seemed to grow despondent at their lack of faith in him. Angela did feel sorry for the littlest member of their group. In so many ways, Fiver was like a child, and for that reason, Angela wanted to scoop him up in her arms and comfort him when he had that crushed look on his face.

Further on they went, and Angela actually managed to get Dandelion to have a full conversation with her. "Sandleford wasn't _that _bad…" Angela didn't know why, but the name seemed to nudge her memory. Had she heard them say it before? "We had plenty of food, we were _kind of _safe…"

"What was life like back there?" Dandelion ducked at her question, as if embarrassed at the truth of the answer. Looking around, the same was true of all of them. "Come on, if we're going to be travelling together for some time, I'd like to know all of you."

Blackberry was the first to answer her. "The truth is, we weren't really anyone of importance… We were all mainly outskirters. Either not old enough or good enough to join the Owsla."

"Except for Bigwig," said Bluebell, "he was an up-and-coming member of the Owsla."

Patiently, Angela asked, "And an Owsla is…?"

"The fighters," said Bigwig with no small hint of pride. "The strongest rabbits in the Warren. We protect everyone from outside threats and enforce the laws."

"Oh. Then why did you leave?"

He seemed to struggle to find an answer for a moment. "Let's just say I was sick of taking bad orders…"

"So… at your new home I guess you can make whatever rules you want. Will you all be an Owsla?" Angela knew about how rabbit social groups worked from a scientific point of view, but to have them explain it to her in this way was rather fascinating. She genuinely wanted to learn how they justified certain behaviours or explained things about themselves or their world from their own unique perspectives.

Blackberry shook his head. "Oh no, I wouldn't ever want to be in the fighting… not for me, I'm afraid. I consider myself more academically minded."

Bluebell sat back on his hind legs and puffed his chest proudly. "And as I have just established, I am our new storyteller!"

"Go on then, Bluebell," Angela smiled. "Tell me a story."

Bounding up beside her, little Bluebell began his tale in a dramatically low voice. "Once upon a time, in the deepest, cruellest winter the world has ever known, food was hard to come by for all the animals under Frith. King Darzin, weary of the tricks and mischief of El-ahrairah that would steal food to feed his own people, declared war on all rabbits. His soldiers guarded their burrows day and night, not once letting them out, and soon El-ahrairah's people were starving. So, El-ahrairah set out to find the only being he thought could save them: The Black Rabbit of Inlé."

Angela frowned. "The what?"

"The Black Rabbit of Inlé." Dandelion shuddered as if cold. "The rabbit of death."

"_Inlé_ is the Lapine word for the moon, or darkness." Supplied Hazel.

"When he calls your name, you know your time has come! And he drags you to his realm of death and disease."

"A load of rubbish," said Bigwig. "There's no such thing."

"Oi!" shouted Hawkbit. "No interrupting, I like the next part. Go on, Bluebell."

"Why thank you, Hawkbit." Bluebell smiled and cleared his throat dramatically. "As I was saying: El-ahrairah, with his ever faithful friend and Owsla captain, Rabscuttle, escaped King Darzin's soldiers and made their way to the unknown lands. For days they went. El-ahrairah struggled on and on until eventually he arrived at the caves of Inlé, the mouth of which appeared before him like the maw of a giant monster trying to eat the sky. And before the prince, that nightmare figure emerged like a toxic void, and El-ahrairah and Rabscuttle's hearts were seized with fear! In fright, they ran into the cave and down a tunnel. It grew colder and colder until they were chilled to the bone. In that vast stone burrow, the Black Rabbit awaited them and asked: _El-ahrairah, why have you come here?_

_"__My lord, I have come to give you my life for my people,_ said El-ahrairah.

"But the Black Rabbit was not moved by this plea. _Bargains, bargains, El-ahrairah. There is no bargain, for what is, is what must be."_

Angela paused mid-step, her heart thumping against her ribs. She felt cold as she realised she recognised those words. The voice from the riverbank had said those exact same words.

"But the Black Rabbit was not an ungracious host," continued Bluebell, oblivious to the turmoil he had placed in his audience. "He offered that he and El-ahrairah play bob-stones together. It was a gamble, one the Prince of rabbits had won many times before. But this time… he lost. As payment, the Black Rabbit demanded something in return. El-ahrairah fell asleep, and when he awoke, his tail and whiskers were gone. Faithful Rabscuttle found his prince new whiskers and a tail from straw, and they were ready to face the Black Rabbit again. This time, the Black Rabbit suggested: _Tonight, if you can tell a story as good as mine, I will spare your people._ So the Black Rabbit wove a story of fear and darkness that froze the hearts of the two rabbits. When it was El-ahrairah's turn, he was too frightened to speak. When El-ahrairah next awoke, his ears were gone. Rabscuttle found two dock leaves to replace them, but in his heart, El-ahrairah knew there were no more tricks to be played.

"El-ahrairah went to a pit in the Black Rabbit's domain. _Turn back, El-ahrairah_, said the Black Rabbit, _The White Blindness lies in this pit; enough suffering for a thousand warrens… _But before the Black Rabbit could finish, El-ahrairah had thrown himself into the pit. By infecting himself with the White Blindness, he planned to bring the disease to the enemy, and yet… he found himself unharmed. _The White Blindness is carried by fleas in rabbits' ears, _explained the Black Rabbit, _With no ears, you cannot carry it. _But the Black Rabbit was moved by El-ahrairah's courage, and so declared that he himself would save the people of El-ahrairah. As Darzin's soldiers were watching over the warrens, the ground seemed to come alive with spectral rabbits with glowing eyes. The soldiers turned and fled, never to return. And then Frith came to El-ahrairah and gave him gifts for his sacrifice. New ears, whiskers and a tail, with a sprinkling of starlight in them, faint enough that it would never give away a clever trickster."

Despite herself, despite trying to tell herself this was all a hallucination, Angela couldn't help but think. Though the memory was hazy, she could distinctly remember a black rabbit on the shore of the river. She'd heard a voice… The distinct feeling of death, cold and numb, was still fresh in her memory. When confronted with it, she'd begged for help. And then… she'd woken up here. She wasn't a superstitious type. She didn't believe in fairies or spectres or ghosts. But could it be possible she had seen something – the Black Rabbit of Bluebell's tale was certainly very similar to the grim reaper of western folklore, though the Black Rabbit seemed to hold mystical powers. More likely to punish as much as to help. Glancing down at her body, Angela wondered if this "second chance" was a help or a hinderance…

"The Black Rabbit…" Angela said hesitantly, trying to sound casual. "Has it ever… appeared to anyone?"

"And lived?" Hawkbit snorted. "Not likely. The Black Rabbit is death. No one sees him and…" he stopped and spun on the spot to face her. "Wait, have _you _seen him?"

She always looked at her feet when she had to lie, an automatic response that gave her away. "W-well, I-I… you see, when I woke up on the river, I saw something– b-but I don't know what it–"

"I knew it!" said Hawkbit. "You've got his fur. You spoke with his voice. That's a bad omen, that is."

A shadow fell over Angela as Bigwig stepped up beside her, towering over both her and Hawkbit. Immediately, the other buck shut up with a loud 'snap' of his mouth. Bigwig nudged her onward. "Don't listen to them, Angela. Nothing more than a pile of _Lendri Hraka."_

The group carried on, mostly in quiet, though there were a few words exchanged here and there. Around midday, the sun reached its peak and beat down on the group. Angela suffered the worst, what with her black fur soaking in all the warmth and trapping it against her skin. Hazel took it easy on them and guided them over to travel within the shadow of a hedge by the side of the field. It made the heat a little more bearable, but not by much. Angela was grateful to even the slightest breeze.

Abruptly, they all heard a rumbling. It grew into a growl that quickly grew to a roar. The ground under them shook for a fraction of a second, and then their ears were blasted with a sound like thunder. Then, just as quickly as it came, the noise dissipated and was gone. Angela had to take a moment to breathe where she was so startled. She knew exactly what it was, but to have experienced it with better ears and a more vulnerable position… everything had been magnified.

The others were looking about, confused by the cacophony. "What was that?"

"Cars," said Angela. "Probably best to–"

"Up ahead," Bigwig spoke as if she hadn't, already bounding towards the sound. "Through the hedge."

Without listening to a word she said, the others followed Bigwig under the hedge. Angela glared at their backs. "… stay on this side."

She followed them. On the other side of the hedge was a shallow bank. A tarmac road laid before them, the paint faded and the edges cracked from where it had been so long since the last repair. All the rabbits curiously but cautiously approached. Hazel sniffed at the road, daring to touch it with a paw. Angela stayed back.

"What is it?" Hazel asked, mystified. "Doesn't smell natural."

"It's a road." Bigwig told him bluntly. Angela blinked in surprise that Bigwig knew at all. Hopping onto the road, the big buck looked back at Hazel, a slight smirk on his lips. "Have you never seen one before or something? You don't know much about things. Do you, _Hazel-rah_?"

Hazel's ears swivelled back in displeasure at Bigwig condescension. "Then why don't you _teach me_, Bigwig."

"It's a man thing," said Bigwig. "The Men put the black stuff there so the _Hrududil_ can run on it."

Angela cocked her head. "A what?"

"A _Hrududu._ It's what we call a man thing that makes lots of noise and passes choking smoke as it goes."

She tried. She really did try, but she couldn't help it. Angela threw her head back and laughed. "Now I know you're making these words up! They're called _cars, _by the way."

"Well," Bluebell mumbled nervously, "whatever they're called, what do we do about them? Are they _elil?"_

Bigwig shook his head. "No, they're harmless, so long as you leave them alone by night–"

A roar! A flash of movement! The earth shook and a wind blasted the entire group as a car sped past. Angela froze in terror, horrified to watch the car pass over Bigwig, and for him to appear laying on the road. She raced down the bank and to his side before the others could regain their senses. Had she just witnessed Bigwig's death?! That car must've been going at 70mph – when most country lanes like this were a 40, at most!

But as she approached, Bigwig twitched, and then slowly rose to his feet, unharmed. Angela could've slumped in relief. He'd played dead to let the car pass over him. She was about to box Bigwig's ears for scaring her like that, but noticed the slight tremble in his spine, the way he shakily watched where the car had gone, before clearing his throat loudly in an attempt to regain his composure.

"Uh, um, see that?" he had to swallow when his voice cracked a little. "They don't hurt you."

"That was bloody reckless, Bigwig!" Angela scolded.

"But see?" said Dandelion in amazement. "He's fine. They really can't hurt us. It was as if it didn't see him."

"Actually," said Bigwig, "As a matter of fact… I don' think they're alive at all. They're faster than us. And what else natural can run faster than we?

"Cheetah, gazelle, antelope, wildebeest, lions, elk…" Angela listed off immediately. The others gave her odd looks, perhaps not knowing what she was on about. Bigwig merely looked unimpressed that she was stealing the wind from under his sails. "What? I'm only stating a fact."

Blackberry had moved away and was already down on the road on his own account, sniffing out toward the middle, halfway between Hazel and a bend in the road to their left. They all heard him start and jump back to the shelter of the bank.

"Blackberry? What's wrong?" called Hazel.

Blackberry did not answer, and Hazel and Bigwig hopped towards him along the verge. He was opening and shutting his mouth and licking his lips, much as a cat does when something disgusts it. "You say they're not dangerous, Bigwig," he said quietly. "But I think they must be for all that…" *****

They all looked to where Blackberry indicated. There was a black and red stain on the road. A mass of rotting fur and needles was stretched flat against the tarmac. Angela sighed. She always hated the sight of roadkill, especially hedgehogs.

"A _Yona_," Fiver said with the greatest pity in his voice. "Why would it kill a _Yona_?"

"What harm does a _yona_ do to anything but slugs and beetles?" asked Hazel.

"_Yonil_ hunt at night," stressed Bigwig. "That's what I'm trying to say to you. In the dark, the _Hrududil_ have these big lights and they draw creatures close. And if they shine on you… you go _tharn…_ and then they CRUSH you!"

"I suppose that makes sense," murmured Blackberry. "The _yonil_ always hunt by night. If you see them by day, they're dying."

With nothing more to discuss, Bigwig led the others across to the other side of the road. He didn't neglect the chance to make another little dig at Hazel, however. "You let me know if you want me to teach you about anything else, Hazel."

* * *

They made their way across the country as the afternoon sun soured and turned to cloud which then burst open upon them in heaps of unending rain. Bigwig could go through it, he didn't like it, but he could endure it. The others were not so resilient. Very soon their fur was wet through and they shivered even as they moved. Bluebell and Fiver especially seemed to be the ones struggling the most. The smallest members of the group, the pair of them were quickly growing too weak. Bigwig tried to help where he could, sheltering Bluebell from the worst of the downpour if possible, or helping Fiver when he seemed too weak. He couldn't watch any of them fall behind.

Apparently, he wasn't the only one. When Bluebell fell in the mud, his energy seemed to leave him, his legs trembling with the effort to try and stand. With his fur so soaked, it revealed how skinny he really was underneath all his fur. Before Bigwig could fall back to get to him, Angela beat him to it. She pressed against Bluebell's side, urging him to put his weight on her as she helped him to stand.

"Bluebell?" she called to him. In the darkening light, her green eyes seemed to brighten eerily. "Get up, please. If you stop, you die."

"I can't… I'm too tired…" Bluebell moaned.

"We have to keep moving." Said Hazel, coming back to help Bluebell on his other side. "There's too many _elil_ at night to stay still without a warren. Come on."

Bigwig went to the lead, trying to see if the way was clear, even with the rain pouring into his eyes. Why was Hazel pushing them on? It was getting late, it must be Frith-down by now. Though it was difficult to tell that with the clouds so dense and black to obscure the sky. Couldn't they dig some scrapes and settle for just the night? He knew the others would appreciate it.

As he led them across a steep bank, he didn't notice the littlest member of their group stop. He didn't realise until Hazel called out to him. At the top of the opposite bank, Bigwig glanced back, concerned Fiver might have trouble getting his grip in the mud. But the young buck was having no such trouble. Instead, he was staring fixatedly at the horizon. Bigwig tried to follow his line of sight. Had he seen a fox?

"Fiver? What is it?" Hazel called again. By this point, the entire group had stopped.

In the far of distance, many miles away, Bigwig could see a large hill with a small copse of trees at the apex. Fiver stared at it, as if it were the edge of the world itself. And then, he exclaimed with joy: "There! That's where we're going. That Down. That's our home."

Everyone was silent, looking to one another for clarification where there could be none. Was he being serious? Bigwig's brows furrowed. Fiver just saw a random piece of scenery, had a 'feeling' and suddenly he decided that was where they were headed? It would take days to reach it!

Bigwig looked at Hazel, silently communicating with him to control his brother's wild imaginings, but Hazel disappointed him. "We head for the Down." He announced and led the way, hopping beside Fiver through the gouge in the earth towards the general direction of the down.

Angela was the only one who hesitated alongside Bigwig. "Wait, are you serious…?" she seemed bewildered and looked to Bigwig. But he could give her no answers. Instead, he shook his head, swallowing his frustrations, and moved to follow the others.

They travelled on. The rain stopped, but it was only a brief respite, Bigwig knew there was more to come. As the world began to grow darker still with every passing moment, all of the rabbits began to pray for rest.

"Where're we gonna sleep, Hazel?" said Hawkbit breathlessly. "There'll be _elil_ out soon and it's far too late to dig scrapes."

At that moment, they reached the apex of a hill. Before them was an old human-thing. Usually men lived in warrens in groups, but this was only a single one of their stone-built burrows. Even then, Bigiwg didn't know if it was much use. It smelled old, the stones cracked, and the roof gone. Only the bones of this place remained. Hazel announced they could find some shelter inside there for the night. As they passed through, Bigwig spotted stones stood upright in the ground, ivy and weeds growing over them. Angela took great care not to step on any of the stones or the bumpy ground before them. When he gave her a questioning glance, she solemnly said: "They're human graves."

Inside the human building, there was plenty of debris and rock overhangs to offer shelter. It didn't feel as secure as a burrow would, but the group were so tired they didn't make any complaints. They all huddled together beneath a slab of stone that was put at an angle. The ground underneath was dry. Bigwig hesitated to follow the others, his hackles prickling as he felt eyes on his back. Swivelling his ears all around, he tried to discover if any _elil _had found them. But he could hear nothing.

Through most of the night, the others all slept soundly, but Bigwig could not. Even if he did, it was only a light doze; his eyes always snapped open at every whistle of a breeze or stirring of a leaf. In the end, he gave up on trying to sleep and decided to keep watch. Something about this place felt wrong to him. The sooner they were away from here, the better.

Whimpering caught his attention. Fiver was mumbling, fidgeting in his sleep. From the way his face was pinched, his ears pinned back even in slumber, he looked frightened. No matter his frustrations with Fiver's eccentricities, Bigwig couldn't stand to see the little rabbit suffer and so nudged him with his paw.

Something in the rafters moved. Bigwig tried to catch a glimpse of it, but it was gone before he could see. He tried to smell the air, but the breeze had stilled. Further off, he heard something rustle on the stone window-ledge. Again, before he could get a good look at it, it had vanished.

"Bigwig!" Fiver whispered, startling Bigwig. Obviously he'd awakened at the larger rabbit's urgings.

"Shh! Quiet, Fiver." Bigwig tried to hush him, desperate to catch a glimpse of whatever was stalking them. "Something's here."

Fiver huddled in Bigwig's shadow. "M-m-maybe it's the B-Black Rabbit of Inle…?"

"Nonsense. There's no such thing." Bigwig wasn't sure who he was trying to convince, Fiver or himself. And then, a flap of feathers. Bigwig's eyes darted up in time and he saw a black wing move into the shadows on the roof. And then from the corner of the room he heard a small squawk. With that confirmation, Bigwig was immediately diving amongst his comrades, rousing them as quickly as he could. "Wake up! Everybody, now!"

"B-Bigwig? What's happening? What's going on?" several voices asked him groggily all at once.

_"__Corvil_!" he warned. "A reckoning of them."

"Corvil?" Angela asked in a high voice. "What's corvil?"

"Crows."

They saw the first one, perched on the broken remains of the window. And then there was another, and another. As if materialising out of the darkness itself, the crows appeared one by one. They surrounded the rabbits, their eyes shining and black, their heads tilted and twitching. Bigwig immediately took up a stance, ready to fight. He knew coming to this place was a bad idea!

Hazel tried to move past Bigwig. "Let me try to talk to them–"

"Talk to them?" he echoed incredulously. "Hazel, no!"

But Hazel ignored him. By Frith, what did he think he was doing?! Had the others let the thought of chief-rabbit go to his head?! Bigwig could only watch in mounting shock and unease as Hazel stepped forward with trepidation. He looked like he was about to go _tharn _at any moment. The crows watched him with unblinking eyes fixed in their twitching heads.

Hazel's voice shook and wilted as he tried to speak. "We understand that this might be your home. We're only here because we've got nowhere else to go–"

The crows dived. They swooped in on a mass of black feathers and terrible screeches. The lead crow threw Hazel back, attempting to pin him down and peck at him, though he clawed it off. Bigwig had one come right in his face, trying to claw at him with its sharp talons. Baring his teeth, he jumped up to swat at it with his paw. Behind him, he could hear the others crying out in alarm and pain as the crows descended on all of them. From the corner of his eye, Bigwig spotted Angela and Fiver huddled down between two large rocks where the birds couldn't reach them. When one came too close, Angela swatted at it. Her eyes were wide and terrified.

"Someone should lead them away!" Bigwig grunted. "Give the rest of us a chance!"

"Are you mad?!" Hawkbit shrieked. "You'll never outrun a _Corva_!"

"I'll go!"

It took Bigwig a second to realise it was Dandelion who had spoken. The usually quiet buck had declared his intentions so brazenly, he wouldn't have guessed it was him. In a flash of yellow, Dandelion broke from the other rabbits and ran over the fallen stones as if trying to flee. The crows took the bait, thinking they had successfully separated one, and followed after him. Dandelion zigzagged across boulders and rotten chunks of wood, managing to make it outside.

"No! Dandelion – don't!" Angela called after him, but too late. He was gone.

The others stared at each other, dumbfounded for a moment, before climbing up the hill of debris on the wall of the building. Over it, they watched Dandelion race across the graves, always managing to stay just an inch ahead of the crows that dived and swooped low to try and catch him. Bigwig watched, amazed. He knew Dandelion was fast, but he hadn't thought he was _this _fast!

"That is one fast rabbit…" Blackberry said, mirroring Bigwig's own thoughts.

"He's got them distracted!" said Hazel. "Let's go!"

"Wait!" Bigwig only just realised that Angela had been struggling to pull herself up onto the ledge. Grabbing her by the scruff of her neck, he helped to pull her up, ignoring her wince of pain. Her green eyes flashed brightly, unsettlingly like a cat's. Her mouth fell open in horror as she watched Dandelion continue to flee for his life from the crows. "They're trying to push him towards the road!"

That caught Bigwig's attention. "What?"

"Crows are smart! They're trying to herd Dandelion towards the road so that a car will get him! Then they'll eat what's left!"

Bigwig knew that where there were human-things, even ones as old and abandoned as the one they stood in now, always had a road close by them. The last one they might have seen had been hours ago, but roads were like snakes in the grass, winding and hidden and where they were least expected. Below them, Dandelion had ducked beneath the tight slanted slab of a partially fallen gravestone. The crows were attempting to flush him out.

He had no more time to think. If what Angela said was true, then Bigwig needed to get the crows off of Dandelion's trail. Preferably, he wanted them gone. Permanently.

Leaving the others to get to safety, he vaulted down into the graveyard and ran towards the crows gathered around Dandelion's hiding spot. A big one, the leader, was on the ground and trying to reach in after Dandelion and drag him out. Bigwig put on a burst of speed and leapt at the crow. He tackled it, feeling a satisfying grind of bones as the bird's wing threatened to break with the impact. They rolled together, Bigwig kicking and clawing, the bird flapping its wings to cuff him about the head.

As one, they leapt apart. The crow stared Bigwig down, beak hung open to screech furiously at him. "One step closer," Bigwig growled, "and I'll pull your tail-feathers out and stuff them down your throat! You _embleer corva!"_

Of course, it didn't listen. Bigwig didn't want it to. The crow dove for him, and at the last possible moment, Bigwig leapt up and slammed into it with all his weight. The bird fell to the ground, dazed. Before it could recover, Bigwig was on it. The crow screeched and tried to wriggle free. Bigwig hit it in the face, in the chest, his back legs on the wings to try and keep it pinned. Lunging, the bird tried to peck out his eyes. Swatting aside the beak, an opening presented itself, and Bigwig took it without hesitation. He sank his teeth into the crow's throat.

And it moved no more.

The other crows scattered with shrieks of fright, flying into the sky in a flurry of black feathers. And then they were gone. Thunder rolled in the clouds overhead. The downpour was just about to be unleashed once again. Bigwig stepped back from his kill, spitting feathers and blood from his mouth. Dandelion slowly crept out of his hiding place, giving Bigwig a shaky nod of thanks as he did so.

Breathless but alive, the pair of them slowly made their way back towards the group. Hawkbit and Blackberry were immediately all over Dandelion, professing both their worry and their admiration for how fast he had managed to run. Hazel came up to Bigwig to thank him for his actions, but Bigwig didn't even spare the buck a glance. This was all his fault. Bigwig just ignored him and hurried the group along to leave this cursed place.

But for some reason, he couldn't ignore the black doe that was stood to one side. She trembled as if cold, her eyes wide and the pupils as small as dots of pollen on a bee's legs. At first, he thought she had finally surrendered and gone _tharn_. But when her eyes darted back and forth before meeting him, he knew otherwise.

"I-I-It's… It's all real…" she whispered in quiet horror. "Isn't it? It's not a dream."

One of the crows had given her a shallow peck, a small trickle of blood glistened on her shoulder. Bigwig had no fancy words of comfort to offer her. And so said bluntly, "No Angela. It's not a dream. Welcome to reality."

* * *

**Author's Note: A big thank you to iloveDracoDH for being an amazing BETA!**

*** = passages from the original book were payed homage to in this section. **

**Also, the story that Bluebell tells the others is based on the amazing artwork of a comic strip by eregyrn-falls on tumblr. Go check it out. It's amazing and very atmospheric.**


	4. Better Than Heaven

Better Than Heaven

They trudged on through the rain. Cold, wet, tired. Angela walked on in a daze. She didn't know where she was going, her mind on autopilot, only following the flash of a white tail in front of her. Was it Bigwig's? Dandelion's? She didn't know. She merely followed. An emptiness, a pit of utter despair was growing wider inside her chest. If she thought to look into it, she feared she would fall inside and never find her way out. So she simply shut off her mind, even if her heart still cried out.

This was all real. She really was a rabbit. Even when all logic pointed to it being impossible, Angela knew that real pain was not something even the dreaming brain could replicate well enough to be mistaken. When a crow had pierced her shoulder with its beak, Angela had screamed at the pain, and then screamed again when the fight or flight instinct inside herself told her, like the loud crash of a gong, that this was all real.

Abruptly, her situation became impossible and daunting. She was a small creature of prey lost in a very big world. All the comforts and securities of being human that she had taken for granted, was now ripped away. How did she even come to be in this situation? How was it possible to be transformed like this? The confusion only served to make that hole in her chest wider, the pull of its sorrow a snare that was getting harder to escape.

Fur brushed her side, drawing her attention away from herself and back to her surroundings momentarily. It was Bigwig, his amber eyes flashing in the night. She'd lagged behind in her ponderings and he'd gently nudged her to coax her along. His expression was grim, and in an instant his large warm body was moving ahead of her. Angela only then realised how lucky she was that these rabbits had found her when they did. Who knows what would've become of her had they not?

Fleetingly, she wished she could go back to the ignorance she had enjoyed just a few hours ago. She wished she could go back to pretending that this was all a dream. But then, her growing sensitive sense of smell caught whiff of the blood trickling down her shoulder. There was also blood on her paw. She remembered she cut her hand on the glass when she tried to escape the wreck of her car. It had scabbed over – maybe she reopened it running around during the crow attack?

Not wanting to wallow in her own misery anymore, she quickened her pace to catch up with whoever was leading in front of her.

Mud squelched between the toes of her paws as they all moved along a narrow dirt road between two meadows. The rain was relentless, even when underneath the umbrella protection of the leaves of the trees on the banks either side of them. All the rabbits were splatted with dirt and mud, their fur soaked to the skin, their limbs shaking from fatigue.

"Alright, we've gone far enough." Bigwig announced. "We should stop."

Hazel shook his head. "No. We keep moving."

Bigwig paused midstride, causing all those behind him to stop as well. Angela tried to peer around Blackberry to see what was happening. Hazel and Fiver were at the front of the group, separated by the divide Bigwig's mounting outrage put between them and the others. When they noticed, Hazel seemed perplexed as he turned to face them all. Fiver read Bigwig better, and immediately huddled close to the ground in the shadow of his brother.

"Are YOU giving ME an order, Hazel?" Bigwig demanded in a dangerously quiet voice. He advanced a slow step at a time on Hazel. "Because I didn't realise that anyone had made you Chief-Rabbit. Afterall, it was me who helped us escape Sandleford. Blackberry who rescued us at the stream. Oh! And Dandelion, who saved us from your stupid mistake with the birds!"

Angela, tired both physically and emotionally, and just wanting to rest, weakly attempted to plead. "Please. Can we not do this now…"

"Yes. We can, right here. Now, we followed you here, Hazel, because you promised us a better life. _A better life!"_

With Bigwig almost in his face, Hazel tried to be placating. "Things will improve. When we reach the down–"

"Ha!" Bigwig's laugh was loud and weary. "Yes-yes. The Down. The place we're heading for, for no reason other than Fiver had a 'FEELING' about it."

"Stop!" Angela shouted. Thunder rumbled above. All the bucks paused and glanced her way. She hadn't even realised she'd stepped forward away from the crowd that had formed to give room for a potential fight. In another time, she would've wanted to come across as strong, confident. But her ears were droopy and her shoulders hunched pathetically. "Everybody… just… stop."

Maybe it was how her eyes begged him, or the reminder of how exhausted everyone was. But Bigwig soon deflated with a long sigh in an attempt to calm his temper. With him winding down, everyone else seemed to visibly relax. A battle for leadership was not what any of them wanted right now. So they could settle for a cease fire for just one night.

"Well, I'm gonna attempt to dig myself a scrape – is that okay?" Bigwig shot at Hazel. "Not because I wanna rest, but because this is where I'm staying."

To the side of the bank, Bigwig began to scrabble his claws in the soft soil. The others all looked on Hazel and Fiver, isolated from the rest of them. After a moment and a pitying glance, Dandelion and Blackberry were the first to follow Bigwig's example. They were all so disheartened, they had no choice but to stop and rest. Angela too followed Bigwig and joined in with the others to dig. Back in autopilot, her body just did what she willed, even without needing prior knowledge of how to do such a task. Hawkbit made room for her at the front, and whilst in a normal frame of mind she might've snapped at him and his assumptions, right now she didn't care.

It didn't take long for them to carve a shallow dip in the bank to provide a tolerable shelter from the rain. It wasn't warm, it wasn't comfortable, it was just barely functional. Angela attempted to lay down with the others, to soak in their warmth and sleep. But her mind was too restless, her heart aching from all she had learned. Her world had been turned upside down. She was still struggling to mentally figure out where that left her.

Angela dozed in and out, at one time she was aware of hushed voiced. One eye, burning and dry, cracked open. Fiver and Hazel were sat at the edge of the scrape, whispering quietly amongst themselves. Knowing further attempts at sleep would be fruitless, Angela decided to rouse herself and join them. Anything to get her out of her own head.

"…don't think like that." Fiver was saying to his brother.

"How can I not?" replied Hazel. "I was a nobody back at Sandleford. What on earth made me think I could be anything else out here…"

"Could be worse." Angela said as she sat on Hazel's other side.

The pair of brothers startled a little. "Angela. Sorry. I didn't realise we woke you."

"I didn't sleep."

"You should rest, Angela," Fiver said gently. "That peck on your shoulder can't heal properly until you do."

"I'm a vet, I know about injuries. Or, at least… I used to be." She trailed off. What exactly was she now? Back when she was human, her life's purpose had been simple. But now? She snorted. "See, Hazel? You might be in a tiff with Bigwig, but at least you don't have your whole world turned upside down…" realising how callous that sounded, she added gently: "And don't worry. They're just tired, frustrated."

"Wish I could believe that," he murmured.

"Believe what?"

The trio looked over to see Bluebell hopping up to join them. He yawned loudly, mouth opening wide with a crack that made Angela wince. Shaking his grey fur until he looked like a puffed ball, the young buck finally opened his sapphire eyes to look awakened.

"Are we disturbing everyone?" Hazel asked anxiously.

Bluebell shook his head. "No. Angela nudged my foot when she walked past me."

She bit her lip. "Sorry."

"What're you talking about, then?"

"Hazel..." words failed her for a moment. "He's blue."

"He can't be. I'm blue - Bluebell! Get it?" Silence. Bluebell deflated. "Sorry. Blackberry's talked to me about that. Inappropriate jokes..."

"But Bigwig's right…" said Hazel. "I'm not a leader. I'm not strong, like him. Not smart like Blackberry. I'm not fast, like Dandelion. And I don't have stories to lift everyone's spirits, like you, Bluebell. Or visions to keep us from harm, like you, Fiver."

"You've led us this far and none of us are dead." His brother insisted. "Isn't that a miracle in itself?"

"It's blind luck, is what it is!"

"Hazel," Angela gently laid her paw on Hazel's shoulder. "We can't all have the same gifts. And not all leaders are made the same way."

"You know…" Bluebell drawled slowly. "I might have a story for that."

Hazel sighed and drooped lower, as Bluebell further demonstrated his point. Fiver smiled thinly, but softly offered Bluebell encouragement. "Go on, tell us."

"Well," Bluebell shrugged. "You already know it, but maybe this will help you feel better."

Bluebell cleared his throat dramatically. Angela settled herself in, paws tucked beneath her chest to try and get warmth back into them.

"Long ago, the Great Frith, who shines upon us each day, made the world. He made all the stars, and the world lived among the stars. Frith made all the animals and birds, and at first made them all the same. And among those animals, was El-ahrairah, the prince of rabbits. He had many friends in the other animals, and they all ate grass together. But El-ahrairah had so many wives and so many kits, that not even Frith could count them, and they ate all the grass and the clover in the entire world.

When Frith heard of this, he said to El-ahrairah: _'Prince Rabbit, if you will not control your people, then I shall find ways to control them.' _But El-ahrairah would not listen, and said to Frith: _'My people are the strongest in the world!'_

This angered Frith, so he determined that there would be a meeting of all the other animals of the world, and upon each he would bestow a gift. Upon the _Homba_ he gave great cunning. Upon the hawk, sharp talons. Upon the cat, silent feet. Upon the weasel, great speed. Upon the wolf, great teeth. All to hunt and slay the children of El-ahrairah. These animals became the _elil_. The thousand enemies of rabbits.

It was a few days later, when El-ahrairah heard all of this and went to see Frith. _'You have condemned my people to lives of fear, Lord!'_ He said. _'Do you not wish to see the blessings I have for your people, prince rabbit?' _asked Frith. But El-ahrairah was too prideful: _'To my bottom give your blessings!'_

And Frith declared: '_Very well. Grow a white tail to confuse those chasing you, and legs to outrun them. Grow ears to hear any of your thousand enemies from miles away. All the world will be your enemy, prince-of-a-thousand-enemies. And when they catch you, they will kill you. But first, they must catch you, digger, runner, listener, prince with the swift warning. Be cunning and full of tricks, and your people will never be destroyed…'"_

As Bluebell's story came to an end, Angela felt her tail wiggling with interest. Bluebell's first story had told her of the Black Rabbit, but this story told her much more of the culture of rabbits. Just even admitting that they had a culture still felt a little weird, but on the other hand it was fascinating. It seemed that rabbits valued cunning and ingenuity, the ability to outwit predators for the sake of survival.

Above them, the sky rumbled and the rain began to lift away. Angela stared out onto a cold and wet world that made her shiver just to look upon it. There was no frost, no ice, but the muddy, damp, dank air made her wish for her bed back home, made her wish for central heating. Her spirit, which had been distracted by Bluebell, began to fall again at the reminder.

Something moved on the crest of the bank. A long pair of ears sticking up between the blades of grass. The others saw it the same time as Angela. The ears rose up on the head of a rabbit with russet fur. The stranger stood on his hindlegs, peering down at them. And then… he began to… dance? Angela frowned as she watched the rabbit sway and flitter about as if it were drunk.

"What on earth is that rabbit doing?" murmured Hazel.

"If that's dancing," said Angela, "it's the strangest I've ever seen."

Wobbling as much as prancing, the strange rabbit came closer. When it was clear that he intended to meet them, Hazel immediately thumped his hindfoot on the ground. With a snort and a start, all the rest of their group was up and standing shoulder to shoulder. Their alertness turned to perplexed as they watched the rabbit come closer. As he did so, Angela realised just how big he was. Easily as large as Bigwig in sheer mass, though he looked more tubby than muscular, as if he'd never had a day of hardship. In fact, judging by the way his coat and eyes were so shiny and healthy, and how large he was, Angela would've thought he was somebody's pet.

As soon as the strange rabbit was close enough, Hazel cautiously said "Who are you and… what do you want?"

"My name is Cowslip." Said the stranger, in a soft lilting voice accented with an English country dialect. A proper carrot-cruncher*, as Angela's father would've said. Funnily enough, Cowslip didn't sit on his haunches like a usual rabbit would. Instead he stood on his hindlegs as if he were trying to walk bipedal. "I come from a warren just across the field here. I don't want anything from you. Who are you?"

All the rabbits seemed a little off guard at Cowslip's completely non-threatening manner. They all looked to Hazel for what to do next. "Well, I'm Hazel. And these rabbits are my friends: Fiver, Bluebell, Dandelion, Hawkbit, Blackberry, Angela and…" Hazel paused as the last and largest member of their group looked a little shamefaced at the ground. "Bigwig."

"It's nice to meet all of you. You look tired – have you come a long way?"

"So what if we have?" was Bigwig's immediate response, taking a single step in order to be in front of all the others, as if take on the brunt of any threat, should it appear. "That doesn't mean we can't defend ourselves."

"I don't doubt that for one second." Cowslip's smile never wavered. "Our warren is not as big as we'd like, but there is enough food to go around. And if you'd like to live with us, we'd welcome you. These scrapes you have don't look too comfortable… and there's more heavy storms on their way."

Angela shuddered. "Got to admit, getting out of the rain sounds nice…"

And then Cowslip fixed her with a look. It was difficult to decipher what he was thinking as he judged her from ears to tail. His brows twitched as he took in her fur. And then just as quickly as his focus was brought to her, he dismissed her. "You'll find that we have enough does – plenty, in fact."

Angela blinked, astonished. Did he just uninvite her, even if it was done subtly? What had she done that was so bad? Disregarding the insult of his dismissal, she was puzzled as to why any buck, even if he had exclusive access to a dozen does, would pass up the chance to have another doe in his warren. Not that she wanted to think of herself like an accessory to be traded, but from a scientific point of view, Cowslip's behaviour was baffling.

Yet, of course, certain members of her group only thought of one thing: "Does?" Hawkbit's ears stood upright. "Did someone say does?"

Cowslip nodded, his smile returning. "There's does, food and room for you all, should you decide to join us. Anyway, if you'll excuse me – I hate the rain."

And with that, Cowslip turned and hopped back over the bank, and was gone. The others stood there watching the spot where he'd left, each of them trying to decipher exactly what had happened. No one spoke. It was difficult to find the right words in their bewilderment.

Bluebell said it best: "Well, that was unexpected."

Hawkbit's head swivelled around to glance at the others. "Errr… we're going, right? He seemed nice. I liked him. Let's go. Let's go right now!"

"But why did he invite us there?" asked Fiver. "It makes no sense to share with us. I've got a feeling–"

"Oh, here we go..." Muttered Hawkbit, his head rolling.

"Listen!" Fiver dashed out in front of the group. "I've got a feeling we should have nothing to do with that rabbit – or his warren. That we ought to leave this place at once and head to the Down."

"What do you think, Hazel?" asked Bluebell.

"Yeah-yeah," was Hawkbit's snarky retort. "We all know what Hazel thinks. _He thinks the same as Fiver."_

The rabbit in question looked between his smaller brother and the others. It was clear to Angela that he was torn, his gaze wandering back to where Cowslip disappeared off to. She caught Fiver trying to get her attention as well, silently begging her to back him up. The woman-turned-doe was undecided. On the one paw, all her years of education told her not to give in to silly superstitions. On the other, everything she thought she knew about reality had just been shot to bits, so why not believe in visions and prophecy at this point? And on the _other, _the thought of some place comfortable to rest sounded like heaven. And on the last paw, the thought of crushing Fiver by brushing aside his feelings felt like she was slapping him across the face.

And then Hazel spoke, and her opportunity to say something was gone. "I think… we should go to Cowslip's warren." Fiver's ears drooped and Hazel did his best not to notice, hurriedly making his case. "These scrapes are no good in this weather, and I fancy taking the chance to get warm, have some decent sleep."

Leading the way up the bank, Hazel bounded across into the wet grass of the meadow beyond. The rest of the group easily followed, passing by a crushed-looking Fiver as they went. Angela wanted to say something, but the right apology wouldn't come easily. Damnit, she was never good in these kinds of social situations. Eventually, Fiver followed them at the back of the group as the followed Cowslip's obvious trail across the meadow and into a field of lavender. Hopping between the rows of plants, Angela attempted to not think of the farmer that might be around the corner.

As they came to the edge of the field, a tree rose out of the ground close to the hedges. The soil upon which it was rooted was raised and formed like a volcano, making the farming around it very difficult. The tree had no shrubbery or any cover of the sort surrounding it, leaving all the huge entrances to the rabbit burrows in its roots were dreadfully exposed. About fifty yards from the tree was the hedging that marked the boundary of the lavender field, and Angela thought she could spy completely wild land behind it. This was the very edge of someone's property, then.

"Sky above us," Bigwig remarked in astonishment as soon as he saw the obvious warren. "Every living creature for miles must know that's there."

"Everyone," said Hazel, "keep your wits about you."

As the group approached the tree, a dozen heads poked out of the tunnels to watch them. They did so without checking for predators, as if they had no fear at all. Each rabbit that Angela spotted was as large as Cowslip and obviously well-fed. All of them had either red or orange or some rusty coloured coat of fur. And they were all silent.

No greetings. No cheers. Not even a little discontentment at the approaching strangers. Granted, Angela didn't know what the usual protocol was amongst rabbits for strangers to a new warren. But this silence… she was sure this wasn't it.

Cowslip was waiting for them at the main entrance, two other large rabbits flanking him, all three of them wearing dopey smiles. Hazel did his best to return the smile – though not very successfully. Angela's ears swivelled, obeying her subconscious demand to know how many others were in the general vicinity. It was troubling to her to realise that Cowslip's warren seemed only this large. If all of them were so well fed, with plenty of room as Cowslip implied, then there should've been dozens and dozens of them.

"Friends." Cowslip said – though, was it Angela's imagination or did he purposefully not look at her? "We're glad you've come. Allow me to take you down to the Great Burrow."

The tunnel into the warren was far larger than it needed to be. Large enough that even a person could stick their head and an arm in if need be. As they descended in after Cowslip, Angela noticed that many of the tunnels were similar. Everything was very… organised, wide spaced, symmetrical. It was very un-rabbit like.

They soon reached the central camber. All around them, the walls and roof were made up of the roots of the tree, centring in at the apex of the ceiling like some grand chandelier. In the centre of the room was a broken piece of thick root, almost as if the trunk of the tree had once reached down this far. It acted like a podium for Cowslip to climb in order to address his subjects gathered below.

"Look at that…" Blackberry whispered, unable to keep his appreciative excitement to himself. "Look at the roof! The roots of the tree keep it stable, it's genius!"

Hawkbit's eyes wandered to the natives of the warren that watched them with silent, unreadable expressions. "Look at the size of them – they could rip us to pieces in a second."

"Yeah…" murmured Angela, "so why aren't they?"

Despite the fact that most people tended to think of rabbits as cute and harmless bunnies, Angela knew them to be territorial and very aggressive when their way of life was threatened. Males fought for the right to mate, females often fought other females for the best burrows. The life of a rabbit was just as ruthless as the life of a wolf. So to see these rabbits be so unresponsive to potential invaders was strange indeed.

"Hazel," Cowslip proclaimed as they all settled, "may I be the first to welcome you to our warren."

"Thank you," said Hazel. "We're glad to be here. This is a fine warren you have."

"Why thank you. You and all those with you are welcome here. Our home is yours, for as long as you'd like."

"How long have you been here?" Angela couldn't keep it in any longer. Her bursting curiosity just got the better of her common sense. "I mean, are you escaped domesticated rabbits? What I mean is, were you raised by men?"

"Men?" Cowslip echoed faintly. "Wh-what in the name of Frith gave you that idea?"

"You're all far too well built to have been in the wilds all your life."

Cowslip's expression was like stone. When he found his smile again, it was more like a patronising sneer. "No, we did not escape from man, little doe. It seems your education was a bit lacking. If you wish to learn, then we will be happy to help you. Later."

Angela could only stare, mouth hanging open in horror at just being condescended and then insulted in such a manner! Her claws dug into the soil underfoot, her eyes narrowed and her hackles bristled. No way. Her old professor told her exactly how to deal with idiots like this! She opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought–

But Hazel, ever perceptive of her moods, cut her off. "When you said your warren wasn't as big as you'd like, Cowslip, we were expecting something a lot smaller. Were there more of you living here once?"

Though he had at first smiled pleasantly for Hazel, the question all of a sudden made the big rabbit go quiet. All around the room, rabbits averted their eyes to the ground, their ears lowered. No one spoke a word.

And then Cowslip completely ignored the question. "Why don't you just settle in here? I think you'll find there's everything you'll ever need."

With that, they were all dismissed. Still simmering with anger, but knowing the opportunity to vent it had passed, Angela had no choice but to follow behind Fiver as he whispered to his brother. "I've got a bad feeling, Hazel… Why are all the rabbits here so big?"

"Fiver." Hazel's voice strained the line between soothing and exasperated. "It's just for one night. It'll be okay–"

A rabbit leapt out in front of them, startling the trio into jumping back. The only impression Angela got was that the rabbit was female, big, and rosy. And then she started talking a hundred miles an hour.

"Hello! You must be Hazel – my name's Strawberry! It's so exciting that you're here! I'm so excited to make friends with you! Unless…" her green eyes widened, "you don't want to be friends? I mean, it's fine if you don't."

Hazel glanced at Fiver and Angela, uncertain of what to do. "We… can be friends–"

"Oh brambles!" Strawberry spun on the spot and leapt for joy. "I knew we'd get on! Come on, I'm gonna take you on a tour of the warren. I'm pretty good at tours, by the way."

"Uh, we'd love to." Said Hazel, trying desperately to hold back a smile. Even when Strawberry's demeanour weirded him out, her bubbly attitude was infectious.

"Great! Come on – even you, sorry, what's your name?" she spun to be nose to nose with Angela.

The black doe was taken by surprise to suddenly be addressed. "Me? Uh, Angela."

"Angela! Brambles, another friend today!" grinning to herself, Strawberry bumped her flank with Angela's. Though they were almost the same height, Strawberry was far heavier than Angela, and so nearly bowled her over. "Don't worry about Cowslip, he doesn't mean to be rude to you. I mean, we all know it's not your fault you're cursed."

"Cursed?" Angela and Fiver asked simultaneously.

"Of course." Strawberry shrugged, still smiling as if the answer was perfectly obvious and acceptable. "Your coat: it's black. The Black Rabbit is the enemy of Frith, after all. You must've been touched by him to get his coat. That's why Cowslip is hard on you. Don't worry, he'll get over it as you get used to it here."

Hazel watched Angela carefully as her bright eyes danced back and forth in thought. He quickly realised he had to make a distraction. "Err, where are those burrows you promised us, Strawberry?"

"Oh, right! There's so many empty burrows – plenty of room for you all. I'll find you one right next to mine, so that if you have any questions, you can say: 'Strawberry, what do…'"

In her enthusiasm, Strawberry had charged ahead. Leaving behind the trio to follow after her at a much slower pace. They looked in at the burrows they passed, all empty, filled with cobwebs and even some with food left lying there. It was like the occupant just vanished into thin air.

"Why're there so many empty burrows?" asked Fiver, nearly trembling from nose to tail.

"I don't know, perhaps they had the white blindness here." Hazel shrugged. He sniffed at the edges of a burrow. "Can't smell any signs of the disease though…"

_Myxomatosis, _Angela realised they were on about. She winced internally at the stab of guilt she felt with just that one word. She wondered if these rabbits ever believed she was human, she would have to explain what they called 'the white blindness'. That wasn't a conversation she was looking forward to having.

Strawberry eventually came back for them. She led Angela to a burrow, telling Hazel and Fiver that she had something special to show them. If it weren't completely childish, Angela might've felt put out that she was being excluded. But Strawberry's green eyes and earnest beaming smile was too genuine to hold any malice.

As Strawberry departed with Hazel and Fiver, she called over her shoulder to Angela to wish her a good rest. And then she said: "Don't worry, we all believe Frith has a plan for us. You were meant to be here, I just know it!"

That got Angela thinking.

Was there some plan, some purpose to all of this? Did she really see the Black Rabbit, the Grim Reaper, that night on the shore after the crash? In all Bluebell's stories, Frith and the Black Rabbit both did their deeds with purpose in mind. The Black Rabbit had to test El-ahrairah before he could grant him his wish to save the other rabbits. And many of the old folktales of human mythology all had a similar premise of a hero being tested through some great quest before their wish could be granted. Was something similar happening to Angela? Was she being tested? Did she have to somehow achieve whatever the Black Rabbit wanted in order to earn back her human life?

What was it that voice had said to her? _You will be my eyes to see, my mouth to speak. Until once again you find that which you might seek…_ Okay then, be his eyes and mouth-piece until she found something specific. Did that include Hazel and his band of travelling rabbits? If Angela was going to indulge in god-like figures playing with life and death, then surely she could make the little leap to believe that there was a reason Hazel and Bigwig had found her, that maybe her purpose, her unknown quest, had something to do with helping them?

Alright, she told herself, she would help these rabbits. Maybe through them she could find her own salvation. But later, right now, she was exhausted and needed the sleep. Her shoulder wound twinged as she laid down on it. But the burrow was warm, the dead grass and upturned soil surprisingly soft under her body. The pull of slumber was too strong, and she was out before she had the chance to move.

* * *

Angela must've slept far too well, for she hadn't even noticed when Bluebell and Bigwig had joined her in her burrow. She didn't know the time, but somehow her body clock told her it was well into the morning. They'd been here a good few hours then. Despite the fact that the other two made her burrow feel extremely warm and inviting, Angela was never one to go back to sleep once she woke up. And not wanting the others to wake and find her just sitting there creepily, she decided to stretch her legs and have a wander.

You'd think that the inside of a rabbit's warren would be impossible to navigate, but because everything was built so precisely, so uniformly, Angela remembered quickly which tunnel turns and forks would take her back to the central chamber. Maybe she would find someone to talk to, or maybe she would just pop up above ground and find something to eat. Despite not spotting any sign of predators on the way in, the thought of being exposed up top and alone made her shiver.

She turned the corner, and almost bumped her head into Cowslip's chest. "Oh, excuse me!" she exclaimed more out of reflex than actual sincerity. She was still not over this pig's behaviour last night.

But Cowslip looked down at her with a smile. "It's quite alright, dearie, no harm done. I actually came to find you. To apologise."

"Huh?" His happy attitude took her off guard.

"I didn't realise before. But some of your friends were talking. They said you're a hutch rabbit."

Angela's ears flattened in irritation. Just what kind of snide remark would she be subjected to now?

"You'll of course have to tell me everything." Cowslip hummed. "About the humans. What were they like? What did they do? Were there others with you?" slowly, he leant towards her and whispered: "Is that where they go?"

His breath brushed the fur of her neck just below her ear. Angela tried to lean away. Instinctively, she looked up and down the tunnel for someone to distract the conversation. But she and Cowslip were completely alone. All the burrows around them were empty. It suddenly occurred to her that she should've roused Bigwig or Bluebell to tell them where she was going.

"I – I…" her eyes darted to her feet. "Where does wh-who go?"

"It's alright, dear," Cowslip said gently. "No need to be nervous. I shouldn't have let my superstitions get the better of me. I'll try to make sure no one is so rude to you in the future. We're all one big happy family here, yes?"

"Thank you," she tried to smile. It was more of a grimace. "I'm sure that won't be too hard; being the Chief-Rabbit, they listen to you–"

"Oh no," he chuckled. "We have no chiefs here."

Angela frowned. "But I thought… I thought all warrens had a chief… I mean, wasn't even your El-ahrairah a chief?"

"El-ahrairah means nothing to us," Cowslip sniffed snootily. "Frith is the chief of chiefs. So we follow only his divine plan."

A cold settled down Angela's spine. Granted, she hadn't been a rabbit for very long, but Cowslip's rejection of what she thought was his own culture made her feel uneasy. Was she reading too much into this? Either way, she suddenly wanted some air to think.

As if in answer to her prayer, Strawberry came running past them excitedly, almost pushing Cowslip over in her haste to get through. Cowslip was forced back to the opposite side of the tunnel to make room for her and the other rabbits of Angela's party that followed.

"What's going on?" she asked Blackberry quickly, desperate for some distraction.

"Apparently, we're going to get some _flayrah_." When Angela cocked her head in confusion, he amended: "It means unusually good food. Lettuce and other vegetables that humans grow."

"And you seem so bewildered by this because…?"

"Well," he floundered, as if the answer should be obvious. "If you don't want to get caught, _flayrah_ is usually reserved for evening or night. It's far too early to be raiding gardens, but Strawberry insists–"

"Do not worry, my friends," Cowslip said in his dreamy voice that was starting to grate on Angela's nerves. "It's all perfectly safe. Come, I'll show you."

Cowslip lead Angela, Blackberry and all the others of their group up above ground. The sun was warm and bright, and had dispelled all traces of the rainstorms the previous evening: a perfect early summer morning. Climbing the roots of the tree, Angela and the others were given the perfect vantage point to see the other side. Just between the tree and the hedges at the edge of the field, was a pile of dumped vegetables.

"Frith in a basket…" Bigwig whispered, mouth curving into a grin. _"Flayrah!"_

All the others rushed down to the pile, eagerly digging into the left out lettuce and cauliflower and potatoes. They ate as if they hadn't eaten in months. Their moans of pleasure were audible and embarrassing. Bluebell sniffed at the edge of a perfectly healthy carrot, his brows knotted in confusion as he tried to place what the strange object was.

Cowslip urged him on. "Try it. It's called a carrot."

Bluebell hesitantly went to take a bite, and then froze. Dandelion immediately pestered him: "Well? How is it?"

"Hmmm…" Bluebell straightened and tried to hide the carrot between his paws. "Horrible. Hm-mm. I wouldn't bother, I wouldn't–!" He couldn't finish before they all piled on him to try and steal the carrot from him.

Hawkbit rolled in chewed up crumbs of a parsnip. "Oh, I'm in heaven!"

"This place is better than heaven," proclaimed Bluebell. "This place has carrots!"

Angela was rooted to the spot. She couldn't seem to compute in her head what was going on, even if her stomach ordered her to eat. Most people who kept rabbits for pets only gave them peelings or vegetables that were about to go out of date. And all these vegetables were in their prime, at their best, and they'd been left out here for wild animals? Who does that?

"You not hungry, Angela?" Bigwig asked around a mouthful of food.

"Um," Angela tried to find the right words to express herself. "D-Don't you all think this is a little strange?"

"I must admit, I've never seen this kind of thing before," said Blackberry. "But if this is really here for us, then by Frith I won't say no!"

"Well said, my friend," crowed Cowslip triumphantly.

"But this was left by humans," she insisted. "Humans wouldn't do this for wild animals unless–"

"Come on, Angela," Hawkbit whined. "Don't try and ruin this, Fiver's already missing out – you shouldn't as well."

Hazel's ears perked up. "Fiver?"

"Yeh," Bluebell garbled. "Ofar darr," he pointed towards the hedges. Hazel turned to see his brother nestled in the shade of tree, watching them. He looked very small and pathetic from so far away.

Bigwig sent Hazel what might've been a sympathetic look, if not for his stern voice. "You need to get control of Fiver. This place is perfect, and we don't want the rabbits here to think that we don't appreciate their hospitality because of him. Alright?"

Angela made a face. "If he doesn't want to join us, he shouldn't be forced to."

"I'll talk to him." Hazel assured Bigwig before hopping off to his brother. Angela looked from Bigwig to Hazel, before deciding to follow. She didn't want the vegetables and didn't want the others constantly asking her why.

When she caught up with Hazel, they found Fiver in a bedraggled state. His fur looked damp and unkempt, he huddled in on himself for warmth, and his mismatched eyes held such a pitiful look to them. More than ever, he reminded Angela of a lost child.

"Oh Fiver," Hazel sighed, "have you been out here all night in the rain? Why don't you come eat some of the _flayrah_?"

"Eating food that's been left by men?" Fiver shook his head. "No. I'll have nothing to do with it."

"So you'd just ignore our hosts?"

"Hazel," Angela butted in. "You asked. He said no. If he's uncomfortable with the situation, then let him be."

"Well, at least come into the burrows for some decent sleep; please, Fiver?"

His little brother immediately refused. "I told you I didn't want to go there."

Hazel's brows furrowed in mounting frustration. "Fiver, are you trying to make me angry?"

"I'm the one who should be angry!" He leapt to his feet, surprising both Hazel and Angela. Quickly composing himself, he continued in a softer tone: "These rabbits… there's something about them that's sad and lost, like… trees in November. I've got a feeling that there's something –"

"What proof have we got that your feelings have ever been right?" pressed Hazel in a nasty voice that made Angela uneasy. "Why didn't you have a feeling about the birds who attacked us? Maybe the truth is, that there never was anything bad back at the old warren. Maybe we left everything behind because of you, for no reason! Maybe I left Dewdrop for no reason!"

"Dewdrop was the one who told the Owsla we were leaving!" argued Fiver. "Hazel, I heard her telling Captain Holly."

"No. I don't believe you!"

Angela attempted to step between them, looking from one to the other. "Boys, please, let's just calm down–"

But neither were listening to her. "Hazel, you know I wouldn't make this up."

"Get into that warren. Right now." Abruptly, the elder brother pushed past Angela to shove his face into Fiver's nose and growled. "Or I will drag you in there myself."

"Enough!" Angela shoved her way between the two forcefully this time. She stood before Hazel, glowering, her legs spread wide and planted as steadily as the tree they'd slept in the night before. "You are brothers. Pack it in now, or I will make you."

"Why do you care?!" Hazel burst. "Since the beginning, you've made it clear you don't consider yourself one of us, that you don't even believe in Fiver's visions!"

"I would rather be wrong and kind, rather than right and nasty."

Hazel scowled at her. For a horrible moment, Angela thought she'd taken it a step too far. Mild mannered and always kind, Hazel had never spoken to her like this, never even shown he had a temper like this. It sliced at her to think she might be burning the bridge of his friendship. But were they friends? She'd like to think so. Her mind flashed back to Daniel, and her heart ached. He'd always tried to be her friend, but she'd pushed him away for the sake of work. Now she was doing it again.

Finally, Hazel said through gritted teeth: "Fiver, if you ever considered yourself my brother, I expect to see you back in that warren before high-Frith. If not…"

He didn't finish. Whether because he didn't feel the need to voice the threat or didn't want to for fear of it being real, Angela didn't know. But she hoped for the latter. Without a backward glance, Hazel turned and bounded back towards the others still enjoying the last of the vegetables. When he was gone, Fiver slowly crept out from Angela's shadow. His eyes were glistening and torn as he deliberated on what to do with his brother's ultimatum. Forlornly, he cast one agonised look to Angela, before skulking off back towards the warren.

Angela watched him go, feeling her frustration rise. She stuck her neck out on the line and it was wasted! Too shame-faced to go back to the others and not wanting to give Hazel the satisfaction of seeing her slink back to the warren like a scolded child, she turned and hopped into the hedge. She'd find her own food and come back when Hazel's temper (and her own) had cooled.

She wandered through the hedges, hoping for shade and maybe some fallen berries from the brush. If not, grass would do her just fine. But as she ventured beyond the sight of the warren, she came into a field that was untamed and wild. The grass grew long enough to hide two rabbits stood on each other's backs. Weeds and thistles seemed to be overgrown at every turn. This was truly a place man had left to run wild.

A sharp noise made her left ear swivel. Laughter – human laughter. Perhaps this place wasn't so abandoned after all. Creeping along through the grass, being sure to place her paws in exactly the right way so to make as little noise as possible, Angela followed her ears towards the sound. She heard a chain clank, the bark of a dog. Rusty hinges squeaked, the heavy impact of weight on plastic. Her nose caught the stinging scent of human waste. A voice talked in a garbled Irish accent.

She parted the grass to get a better look. She saw dogs, a pair attached to long chains, and four others in cages. Plastic chairs were huddled around a small BBQ, a large man bent over it trying to light it. Behind him was a car attached to a caravan.

Angela froze, her heart suddenly crashing against her ribs. Headlights flashed in her mind, the blare of a horn and the screech of metal rang in her ears. She recognised that car. And the caravan. It was only a glimpse, but she knew she would remember every detail of that event until the day she died!

The gypsies. The same ones that had pushed her off the bridge and into the river. They were here.


	5. The Cult of Frith

The Cult of Frith

Angela pushed herself to the ground, ears pinned back against her neck. She struggled to control the petrifying fear that made her breath quicken and her pulse race. Her entire body wanted to lock, for her to freeze and shut down until the threat went away. It was like gravity was losing its hold on her, and she was floating up and up, away from herself. It was only through sheer force of will, of forcing herself to remember who she was, that she eventually found herself on the ground and in her own body once again.

It would be later that she realised she had almost experienced what Bigwig called 'going _Tharn_'. Coming so close to the ones that had caused her near-death experience, reliving it inside her own head, had almost made her lose herself. She didn't know which was more terrifying – being so close to her attempted murderers, or completely losing control of her body like that. Every footstep being careful, she tried to slowly back away. Thankfully she was downwind, the dogs on the chains hadn't noticed her presence yet. If she was quiet enough, she could get away before –

Something caught her eye, a part of her brain insisting that something about this was familiar. She studied one of the dogs in the cages, big and brutish, a yellowing bandage wrapped around one foreleg. Recognition hit Angela like a brick. It was Bob, the Rottweiler from Nuthanger Farm. So he _had_ been stolen away after all…

"You got that there fire goin' yet?" called out a voice from inside the caravan. A man stepped out; brown greasy hair hung about his face. Angela recognised with another pang of panic that threatened to make her go _tharn _again, that this was the same man that had confronted her and Farmer Cane. Something was clutched in his hand, but Angela couldn't make it out.

"Damn thing won't light!" complained his big companion. "Canne do nothin' with this bite!" For emphasis, he shook out his hand that was bandaged almost completely aside from the very tips of his fingers.

"Oh aye," said the first. "Will teach ya to not put yer fingers in the bloody cage!"

The two men looked towards the row of cages, patrolled by their pair of mongrel dogs. "He's a fighter, that one. How much longer we waitin'?"

"I told ye," said the older brother, "not till tomorro'. Let the heat die down from that silly settler woman. I told ye not to run 'er off."

Angela's heart quaked to listen to them discuss how they'd tried to do such extreme harm. If her growing outrage at them for that were not enough, then the next words nailed it. "Right. We meet with old Tommy tomorro'. The Rotti best be ready. He reckons he'll be easy champion in the fights."

"If not," said the other, brandishing up the thing he held in his hand, "I seen him take to rabbits. I don't think even them badgers stand a chance." And as he held aloft the thing in his grasp, Angela finally saw what it was, and her stomach turned. A rabbit, stripped of fur and skin, its head still attached and bent at an odd angle from a broken neck. The rabbit was so large, Angela might've mistook it for a hare.

There was only one group of rabbits close by that reached that size.

Forgetting her earlier caution, not caring if the dogs heard her or not, Angela bolted back towards the hedge. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She truly stretched them, sprinted in a way she hadn't been able to do so since she awoke from the crash. The ground flew underneath her and it seemed in no time at all, she was back in Cowslip's warren.

The neatly laid out corridors and wide spaces now seemed more ominous than ever. The gypsies were dog-baiters, and used this warren to feed the dogs they stole, or to put them in the ring to be torn apart for blood-thirsty spectators. And if traps or other means yielded nothing, this warren was large enough that a human could physically reach in to get them out… or send their dogs in… Angela shuddered to think of the carnage should dogs find their way here, where the tunnels would allow them access to every single burrow.

She searched along the burrows, calling out to everyone she knew, but no one answered her. For a heart-stopping moment, Angela feared they had all already been taken. But then, she heard a voice. Bluebell. And then there were the others, cheering. Running, Angela followed the sounds of their chorus towards the main chamber. Bluebell was finishing a story. Angela could only hear her rabbits cheering. Were they alone?

"That was… very nice, Bluebell." Came Cowslip's voice, insincere and condescending as usual. "We don't tell the old stories much. El-ahrairah doesn't mean anything to us. _Charming_ as it is."

As Angela rounded the corner, she heard Bigwig scoff. "But he was a trickster. Rabbits always need tricks."

"No." said Cowslip forcefully. Angela came into the main chamber then. All the rabbits of the warren were attending, and Angela's rabbits were crowded together in the middle. Cowslip met her eyes, ears pressed back against his head. "Rabbits need dignity and the will to accept the fate that Frith has decided for them."

Heat vanished from the black doe's body. All at once, Angela realised the truth. Cowslip _knew_! He knew of the danger. He knew what was out there, and he did nothing.

"Blessed are we to walk the path he decides…" chanted everyone around them in a droning murmur.

Angela felt her hackles stand on end. Now she knew why this warren had creeped her out from the beginning. This was a cult. They droned the same lines over and over with practiced devotion, and Cowslip stood on the podium, not as a leader but as their conductor. Their shepherd to lead them to slaughter.

"So hear one of _our_ stories," Cowslip gestured for another rabbit to stand beside him, this one with dark splotch-markings over his face. "The sweet rhymes of Silverweed for your ears."

"Frith lies in the evening sky," intoned Silverweed in a stage-whisper, "the clouds are red about him. I am here, Lord Frith. I am running through the long grass…"

Angela crept amongst the rabbits until she found her party. Most of them were lounging, completely at ease, bellies distended and eyes drooping from a good meal. Hazel sat straight at the front, his head continuously turning towards a gnarled root. In the shadow of that root, Fiver lay curled up, as small as a kit. Angela crawled to Hazel's side, looking around to check for Cowslip, but she couldn't see him.

"Hazel," she whispered. "Please, we need to talk. It's urgent!"

"Angela?" Hazel looked down at her and winced. He was unable to meet her eyes, still embarrassed by their altercation earlier. "What's wrong?"

"We're in danger!"

His ears perked up at that. "Danger? What danger?"

"O, take me with you, Lord," continued Silverweed in a slowly rising crescendo. "Dropping behind the woods far away to the heart of the light. The silence. For I am ready to give you my breath – my life!"

"Everythin' alright here?"

Angela and Hazel startled and spun to find a unwelcome face smiling behind them. "Cowslip!"

"Dearie, you look as if you've suffered a fright." Cowslip said, looking her up and down. "Maybe you should come with me. Get you some _Flayrah_ and you can then have a lie down."

He reached for her, and Angela did the most inhuman thing she'd ever done: she snapped her teeth at him, wriggling away, back arched and hair on end. "Don't you dare touch me!"

"Hazel!" came a breathless squeak. Hazel turned to his brother, who was hyperventilating, glancing from Silverweed to the ceiling. Fiver's mismatched eyes were wide and terrified. "This rabbit… he-he smells like wounds, like pain and rot. Hazel! Hazel the roof. The roof here is made of bones…"

"Your brother doesn't seem all there," said Cowslip, an ever-so-slight edge in his voice. "Maybe you should calm him down, Hazel. Before he hurts himself."

Going to his brother's side, Hazel tried to quieten Fiver. The smaller rabbit's mutterings were starting to attract attention from the rest of the warren, even Silverweed was pausing in his poem to stare. "No, no they're not bones, _Hrairoo_," Hazel soothed, "they're tree roots. They're not bones."

"Hazel!" said Angela. "Fiver's right!"

"What–?"

"They're humans outside!" her words caught the attention of her and Hazel's companions. "They're here and they going to kill us–"

"She needs to be quiet now." Cowslip snapped, voice tight. "There's no need to listen to such delirium."

"I am not delirious!" Angela snarled. "These rabbits, all of them, are in danger!"

Bigwig nudged her side. "Angela, come on, calm down–"

"The doe needs to learn to mind her place." Cowslip sniffed haughtily. "She needs to accept Frith's will and–"

"You are not dragging me into–" All thought melted away and Angela found herself frozen to the spot. She stared into Cowslip's dull eyes and felt a familiar cold presence hang over her shoulder. Words whispered into her ear and spilled forth from her mouth.

_"Chief of the warren, _

_The rabbit's pied piper,_

_Man shall have him soon, _

_Frith's two-faced viper…"_

Hazel, Cowslip, Bigwig and Angela were silenced as the haunting words of the otherworldly voice faded into nothing. Cowslip stared at Angela, eyes wide, unmoving, gone _Tharn. _

And Silverweed continued, "… take me away, into the earth we go!"

Fiver screamed. "Let me out! Let me out!"

All of them were so startled they leapt in the air. The confusion allowed Fiver to race past them out of the chamber.

"Frith's beard," Bigwig gasped, "What is wrong with everyone today?"

"No respect!" Every rabbit shied away as the normally soft-spoken Cowslip suddenly erupted. "That be what's wrong here. Rudeness of the highest order." He eyed Angela and immediately shied away from her as if the very air around her was poisoned. "And bad luck you bring with you! Frith will show you his path soon, you'll see."

And with that, Cowslip hopped away. Rabbits of his warren parted for him, glancing back at the newcomers with growing agitation. Even Angela could feel that the atmosphere had changed. Her rabbits shifted nervously.

Bigwig slowly turned a fierce look on her and Hazel. "Now you've done it. You're determined to spoil this for the rest of us, aren't you!"

Angela stamped her foot, offended. "I have no control over that! I don't even know what that is!"

"And Fiver just got spooked, that's all," said Hazel. "Look, let me talk to him, I'll–"

"No, Hazel." Said Bigwig, pushing in front of him to reach the exit first. "You had your chance to deal with Fiver, now it's my turn."

A sensation crept along Angela's skin, as if that cold presence had returned and was hovering over her shoulder again. Looming and foreboding, an inevitability she couldn't escape. She and Hazel shared one last glance before running after Bigwig. What would he do? Surely he wouldn't hurt Fiver…

They found Bigwig, cornering the runt beside the hedge, stood to his full imposing height over a shrinking smaller rabbit. Bigwig was furious. "Fiver! You wretched little black beetle! You're one tantrum away from getting us all kicked out."

"Bigwig!" Angela shouted as she reached them with Hazel hot on her heels. Just as she had done with Hazel, she planted herself between Fiver and the one bullying him. "That's enough!"

"Why're you defending him?" Bigwig demanded. "You don't believe in his insane imaginings as well, do you?"

"But Bigwig, he's right! I saw humans. Saw the rabbits they've killed. This whole warren is a tra–"

"And how am I supposed to believe you?" he snorted. And then he feigned a high pitched voice and batted his lashes, legs going faint. "_I was a human! I know all about them! Please believe me and the voices in my head!"_

"You think this is funny?" Angela hissed.

"No, actually, I don't. Which is why these games of yours need to end. You too, Fiver."

"I'm sorry, Bigwig," said Fiver. "But I'm going to the Down."

When Fiver tried to go around him, Bigwig firmly stepped into his path. "You wouldn't have a hope in hell! You'd be dead before _Ni-Frith_."

"You are closer to death than I, Bigwig. This place is death. There is shadow in every corner of it."

"Fiver," Hazel tried to be comforting as he tentatively stepped towards his brother, as if he feared Fiver would push him away. "Please calm down, you can't seriously think of going out there by yourself…"

The little brother stared up at his elder sibling, and for a moment looked both proud and terribly sad. "Hazel, you said you could never make a good leader because you're not the fastest nor the strongest or the smartest. But what makes a great leader is that you believed in us and brought out the best in us."

Hazel could only stare, unprepared for such words, especially after the way he had treated Fiver.

But the smallest rabbit seemed to hold no grudge. He offered Angela one last nod of gratitude, before saying, "Goodbye brother." And hopping away.

Before Angela could call him back, Hazel finally came to his senses. "Fiver, wait! If you say this place is rotten, then it's rotten and we leave. We began this adventure together and we'll finish it together. I'll go and tell the others we need to leave."

Out of nowhere, Bigwig shoved Hazel to the ground. At first, Hazel was too startled to move, but then he regained himself and began to struggle. But Bigwig had him pinned. "I'm not letting you get to the others, Hazel."

Angela's stomach dropped, that overbearing presence on her shoulder seemed to be getting heavier. She ran at Bigwig and shoved her shoulder into his. Yet he was strong and prepared for her. She managed to push him back, but he wasn't knocked over like she wanted.

"Pack it in, Bigwig!" she snarled. "You are not going to bully everyone into your line."

Sides puffing to contain his growing anger, Bigwig's voice was little more than a growl. "If you wanna leave, go. But the rest of us are staying here."

"You can't! The humans will–"

_"Hraka_! I'm finished with you – all of you! Hazel, if you want to take the crazy dreams of your brother as reality, then do it elsewhere." With an expression like thunder, Bigwig turned his back on them and went to return to the warren through the hedge. He paused on the leafy threshold, and said: "I'm going back to the warren. Do _not_ follow me."

And then he disappeared. Angela, Hazel and Fiver stared at each other, unsure what to do. But then, a small gasp of breath made their ears twitch. That had been Bigwig. Angela was the first to move. Though Hazel tried to caution her, she ignored him. She burst through the hedge and came to the top of a hill. By her paws was a peg buried in the earth, a wire wrapped around its top led down the slope.

And there at the bottom, was Bigwig. The noose had caught around his neck; the only thing stopping him from being completely strangled was one paw caught in the way. Bigwig struggled and pulled, but the wire was taut against the peg. The noose squeezed tighter and tighter the more he tired to pull free. Angela stared, her heart thundering, that weight on her back seeming to be so heavy it held her in place. She was horrified. As a human, she could handle animals on the brink of death in the most stressful situations because there had been a disconnect. But now, after being one herself, it was like she was watching a human being murdered before her eyes.

_"Thlayli_!" cried Hazel as he and Fiver ran down the slope to their friend. "Listen to me, you're in a snare! Now what did they teach you to do in the Owsla?! Bigwig, tell me what to do!" When Bigwig could do nothing but choke and gasp for air, Hazel turned on his brother. "Fiver, run and get the others!"

The little rabbit shot up the slope and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. As he passed her, Fiver accidentally bumped Angela. Like glass shattering, Angela felt her mind all at once come free. She shook her head of all emotion and entered into _'vet-mode'_. She ran to Hazel's side and leapt over Bigwig to stand in front of him.

"Bigwig, you need to calm down." Angela said in a voice that was firm but steady. "Hazel! Get to the peg. Tear it out. We need to make the wire relax before we can pull it off."

Whether it was her tone, or the fact that she was offering some sort of direction, Hazel obeyed. As he began furiously digging, Angela planted her paws and tried to push Bigwig backwards towards the hedge. His legs locked, instinct taking over his mind. Angela kept speaking to him in soothing tones, trying to encourage him to calm and listen. Their eyes met, and Angela saw how utterly terrified he was, the desperation, the pleading. Not quite sure what else to do, Angela pressed her head to his. At first, as a means of comfort, like how she would have stroked a dog's back in her clinic if it were agitated. Then, slowly, she increased the pressure and Bigwig finally took a step back.

That did it. The wire went slack and Angela was able to catch a hold of it between her teeth and pull it loose. Bigwig's paw came free first, and he went to move his head–

At the hedge, the others arrived on Fiver's heels. The moment they saw Bigwig, they panicked. "Bigwig!"

Mental state still fragile, Bigwig startled at the cry, at the smell of fear. But his jerking movements strained on the wire and it went tight again. And this time, his paw wasn't in the way. Instantly, he was strangled far worse than before, and he began to really claw and pull to get free. Each writhing movement made the wire constrict harder.

"No, Bigwig!" Angela cried as she tried to again push him back. But his thrashing was wild, all rational thinking gone. He knocked her aside purely by accident. He was still strong enough to send her to the floor.

At the peg, Hazel had managed to almost dig it out. "It's narrower down the bottom! Fiver, you're the smallest!"

"Bigwig, hold on!" Dandelion called.

Angela shook her head, trying to gain back her own breath where she'd been winded. She was gasping, heaving for breath – no, that was Bigwig! His limbs were shaking, his mouth stretched open wide but not even a sound would escape him now.

"Hurry, Fiver!" said Hazel as his brother chewed through the wood as fast as he could.

Angela leapt to her feet and rushed to Bigwig's side. "Bigwig, stop pulling!" he couldn't hear her. His eyes were rolling into the back of his head.

Abruptly, there was a loud _CRUNCH_, and then the peg snapped where Fiver chewed and went flying into the air. The wire went slack and Bigwig fell forward. Angela tried to catch him, but his dead weight almost knocked her over as well. He lay on the floor, unmoving.

"Bigwig!" the others came racing down the hill to his side. Blackberry immediately came in and took hold of the wire in his teeth, pulling it off Bigwig. But there was no response. Blackberry pressed his ear to the larger rabbit's nose. When he looked up, his eyes were wide, his voice small. "I… I can't hear him breathing."

"Out of my way!" Angela said in such a tone, the others jumped.

She too pressed her ear over Bigwig's mouth and nose. No, he definitely wasn't breathing. Using the strength in her back legs, she pushed him so that he lay on his spine. Quickly, she tilted his head back. If she were human, this would be easier, but she would have to try her best. Stretching her mouth as wide as possible, she placed it over Bigwig's nose and mouth and breathed into him.

"Burning Frith, what is she doing?" she heard Hawkbit ask.

"I saw this…" murmured Fiver. "It's all coming true…"

"Then," Bluebell was horrified. "Is she killing him?!"

"No." Angela said as she straightened. "I'm giving him CPR."

"What?" said Blackberry.

She pressed the pad of her paw to the vein in Bigwig's ears. There was a pulse, faint but still there. Both paws over his chest, she began to push. "CPR: Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation."

She had no watch to determine the passage of time, so she went with her gut. Compressing Bigwig's chest between one and two times a second, after every third, she gave him one breath. The process needed to be repeated three times before she checked his pulse again.

Behind her, Hazel murmured a low requiem. "My heart has joined the thousand… for my friend stopped running today."

Angela grit her teeth. No. He wasn't gone yet, she wouldn't let him!

Leaning over Bigwig to breath into him once more, she was almost knocked aside when he suddenly jolted upright with a great rushing inhale of air. With a splutter and a cough, Bigwig sat hunched on the floor, mouth wide to gulp down a much needed breath of fresh air. Angela stepped back to give him space, sagging in relief.

"Bigwig?!" Hazel and the others crowded round him with cries of joy. Hazel immediately pressed his side to the larger buck's, trying to help him to stand. "Oh, Bigwig, you're alright! I thought I'd lost you, brother. Do you think you can walk?"

Coughing, Bigwig's voice was grated and hoarse. "I can try…"

They helped him to his feet. When he stood, Bigwig's eyes found Angela's and he was silent. She looked at the floor, unsure of how to respond to the quiet awe she saw in his gaze. But then, his shadow fell over her, and she had no choice but to look up. Bigwig always seemed so stern, but now, when he looked so sincere, so unsure… Angela didn't know what to make of it.

"How did you know to do that?" he asked. There was no accusation in his voice, just mystified.

Angela knew how well her answer would be received, but she told the truth anyway. "I'm a vet. I had to study for six years at Cambridge. CPR is one of the basics."

"By Inlé," he breathed. "It's true, isn't it…"

Belief was such a simple thing; but knowing that someone believed her after so long brought Angela close to tears. All the other rabbits crowded around Bigwig to stare at her alongside him. And just like that, she knew they knew. She smiled up at Bigwig. "Yeah, it is."

Their moment was interrupted when Hazel said, "The man who set the snares will be back soon. Hawkbit? Where're the other rabbits? We must warn them."

"They wouldn't come." The grey buck quickly rushed out, as if just remembering that. "They tried to stop us."

"What?!" Hazel demanded, horrified.

"Cowslip said it was Frith's will. That a day less for one means a day more for everyone else."

"I told you," everyone turned to the little voice, to Fiver, blood dribbling down his chin. "The whole place is snared. Everywhere. Everyday."

All the rabbits looked at each other fearfully. Blackberry glanced between Fiver and Hazel and said, "But… what do we do now, where do we go from here?"

"We should go back and kill Cowslip," growled Bigwig. "We should kill the lot of them!"

Fiver stepped forward, shaking his head gently. "No, Bigwig. There's no need to go and fight them. All we have to do is leave them there."

Bigwig really looked at Fiver, as if for the first time. Just as he had done with Angela, there was a realisation inside him, and Bigwig quietly nodded his apologies to the smaller buck, and then said, "The Down that you saw, you really had a feeling about that?"

"Yes, I did, Bigwig. That Down is our home. Where the winds and the sounds carry, and where the earth is as dry as straw in a barn. That is where we must go."

Each of them nodded one by one, or affirmed their faith in Fiver. Even Angela was willing to say she was inclined to believe it. It went completely beyond explanation, but after her experience so far, how much further outlandish could it be? Maybe if she didn't think about it too hard, she could more easily accept the idea of Fiver's clairvoyance. How else could he have known about the danger here before even Angela could figure it out?

"Come on then, everyone." Said Hazel. "Let us go to the Down."

"You guys go ahead," Angela said, not moving when the others went to hop away. "I'll catch up. I have something I need to do."

"We can't split up now," Bluebell was distressed at the thought. "What if the man with the snares finds you?"

Angela turned away, her eyes dark. "Or I find him." She then met Hazel's eyes. "Go and find shelter in the copse of trees just over that hill. I promise, I'll be back before dawn."

It was pointless to wait for their replies, their cries to stay together as a group would have fallen on deaf ears. So Angela hopped away before those arguments could be issued. Her stomach churned at what she wanted to accomplish, the fear threatening to overtake her again. But there was a fire in her heart, an anger she couldn't get rid of. It drove her onward, forced her legs to move, her concentration to remain fixed.

The afternoon was late when she made it towards the hedge, the gypsy camp just beyond. It was only here that she hesitated, the threat of going _Tharn_ looming over her spirit. Distantly, she heard the whine of dogs, the stench of roasting meat (which when she was human would have made her salivate) now made her want to vomit.

A rustle in the grass behind her. Angela startled and spun. Bigwig jolted back. "Easy, easy!" he said. "It's just me."

Angela took a moment to calm her breathing. With the nerves of the task ahead of her and now this, her paws were starting to shake. "What're you doing here? I thought I told you to go with the others."

"A rabbit on their own stands no chance of surviving," he shook his head vigorously. "And I… um, I wanted to thank you, you know, for earlier."

"It's my job," she said.

"And protecting us is my job."

"Weren't you the one advocating to stay in the warren full of snares?" Before he could give a smart reply, she continued talking. "Anyway, that's why I'm here."

"For what?"

"Revenge." There was no point in wasting time continuing to persuade him to go back. Angela already knew Bigwig was one of the most stubborn creatures she had ever met. So instead, she crept into the hedge and motioned him to squeeze in beside her. She parted the leaves and showed him the camp.

"Frith's beard…" he murmured. "These are the men who set the snare? And you want revenge – _on them?" _

"Yes." Her green yes flashed with her resolve. "They don't just set the snares here, Bigwig. They're spread thinner in surrounding areas. Farmland, woodland, footpaths. I think they're leaving out bait – the vegetables and other food – so that the rabbits here and other wildlife will wander in. Maybe they take the skin and meat, I'm not sure. But what I do know, is that some must be used for dog-baiting."

"Dog-baiting? What's that?"

She pointed her paw towards the cages set against the caravan side, with the Nuthanger dog, Bob, sleeping inside one. "These dogs have been stolen from their human families, and these men here are going to force them to fight. Dog-baiting is where a helpless animal is chained up or sometimes confined, and a pack of dogs are set on it to tear it apart. And then, the dogs the men think are good at it, will be forced to fight each other."

"That's… that's barbaric!" Bigwig hissed, revolted. "Humans truly are the lowest of all Frith's creatures." He only realised what he said when Angela threw him a nasty glare. "N-No offence…"

"Not all humans are like this, Bigwig." She said. "In fact, dog fighting is illegal. Most humans think the act is horrible and needs to be stopped. But there's always someone who will do anything, just because they can."

Bigwig looked from her to the camp. "Alright, you've shown me the men. What now?"

"Now? That's the easy part. I'm going to set the dogs free."

* * *

**A/N: Hello my lovely readers! I'm back and I hope you enjoyed this chapter - if you did, please please leave a review! I do read them all :)**

**P.S. I know that in the original, it was a farmer leaving out vegetables for Cowslip's warren. But I took a little artistic liberty here.**


	6. Stupidly Brave

Stupidly Brave

Bigwig's jaw dropped. "_HOW _is this the easy part?!"

"Well, opening the cages _is _easy," Angela tried to shrug and see the humour. "It'll be getting away that's hard."

"Which is exactly why we shouldn't do this in the first place!" Bigwig hissed, putting himself in her way before she could go anywhere. "Angela, I'm all for rabbits using our tricks – but this is recklessly stupid!"

Angela took a breath and met his stare. "Bigwig, these humans do horrible things. I'm stopping them. If you don't want to help, go back and find the others."

"No way. I'm not letting you get snatched up and eaten by yourself."

"Then help me come up with a plan so we can both get out of here in one piece."

That seemed to settle it – though Angela was certain it was only temporary – and began to formulate a plan. They scouted all around the camp, checking for hidden surprises and getting a layout of the land. It was rather surprising for Angela when Bigwig helped her just as much in coming up with their strategy. Though it was clear he wasn't comfortable, she admired that he still gave the task his all.

As they conspired, she noticed him eye her up and down, and eventually asked, "So… you're really human then? Or, at least, you _were_."

"Yeah. I was."

"I can't… I don't even know where to begin with questions." He shook his head, amber eyes wide. "How did you come to be here, like this?"

"I don't know. Honestly, I don't!" she stressed when he gave a doubtful look. She folded her paws together, ears unconsciously drooping as she tried to delve into her memories of that night. "I was called out to help someone. I was on the road in a… _Hrududu_. Then those men crashed into me. My car fell… I was in the river… I don't know what happened after that exactly. When I woke up, I was on a riverbank and there was this _voice_ all around me. A shadow, a rabbit – I think. Then I woke up and you were there."

Bigwig stared from her to the gypsies. His brows furrowed into a fierce scowl. "These men tried to kill you? Why don't I find it surprising humans would stoop to murder."

Angela found herself compelled to defend her species. "Don't rabbits kill each other all the time? That's nature's way."

"We kill each other for _reasons_. For territory, for does, for food."

"Humans are not monsters, Bigwig. Yes, some of them can do monstrous things. But you can't call us all terrible when you don't understand what we're doing half the time."

"So explain it to me," and he sat himself down, as if he didn't plan to go anywhere for hours. "You said you were a vet; what is that, exactly?"

"I told you," she was a little flustered; she hadn't expected Bigwig to be so earnest in wanting to know about humanity. "I spent years of my life studying animals and how to make them better when they're sick or injured."

"Why would humans care about other animals?"

"Mostly it's for the animals they own. Their dogs, cats, hutch rabbits, farm animals. They get sick or hurt and I would see to their wounds and give them aid where I could. But some humans do care about wildlife." Angela found herself smiling, wistfully. "You wouldn't believe how many children come to my surgery, crying, because they found abandoned wild ducklings. Or humans that hit deer or badgers with their cars and nurse them back to health. We do care, Bigwig. _I _care."

He stared into her eyes, amber-gold eyes like fire. It was almost too real, for Angela could've sworn she felt those eyes warm her. She looked away quickly with a cough. And then, Bigwig's deep voice said softly, "When I was in that snare… you knew what to do. You've done that before."

"If I were human, I would've gotten you out of it faster." She looked down at her paws. No thumbs, no dexterity, useless. "Bigwig, what am I? I'm not sure on anything anymore."

"Maybe…" he looked around for inspiration, "maybe the Black Rabbit was there when you crashed. Maybe he did choose you."

Angela snorted faintly. "I thought you didn't believe in him."

"And I would've also said I don't believe in humans turning into rabbits – but I think I can safely say I was wrong on that one."

"But why would he choose me?" she asked quietly. Even if she had been transformed into a mouse, she didn't think she could feel any smaller than she did now. "I'm not special."

"You help animals. You helped me. Maybe the Black Rabbit wants you to use those skills to fulfil some kind of purpose; we found you, so you could be sent to help us." And then he bumped his shoulder into hers playfully. "If I sound as whimsical as Hazel, please swat me."

She chuckled at that. And then her mind digested the words. Maybe Bigwig was right. Like in Bluebell's stories, there was always a lesson to be learned, a purpose to be served. What if all of this was a journey she needed to take, that there was a mission laid out before her and when she completed it, she could go home. It was farfetched and indeed whimsical. But it gave her hope.

"So," said Bigwig. "You know everything about the human world, and I can ask anything… Why do you lot go around in the _Hrududil_? Aren't your legs good enough?"

Angela huffed. "Easy for you to say, Mr Hoppity. Cars can go miles in minutes, we need them to get to places."

"Where could you be going in such a hurry? Don't your burrows have everything you need?"

Oh great, how to explain economics to a rabbit? "Well, no. It's a little difficult to explain, but–"

"'ere, boy! Come on in, ya tea's ready!"

The voice of the humans made both the rabbits duck to the ground. They peeked through the hedge, to watch the gypsies go inside the caravan. They even took their personal dogs with them, leaving the camp unguarded.

Angela took a steadying breath. "We're out of time. Let's go."

* * *

With The gypsies occupied in their caravan, Bigwig and Angela set to work. They carefully laid out their trap as quietly as they could. Bigwig, from natural instincts, twitched his ears towards every sound. Angela kept her own eyes peeled for incoming danger. She knew how to spot human things where Bigwig might not.

"Okay," she whispered when everything was set. "You go on lookout. Remember what you need to do."

"Wait," Bigwig stopped her. "You're going in there alone?!"

"I know what I'm doing. I don't want you to risk your life unnecessarily!"

"I'm no coward. I see this through to the end. With you."

He said it so matter of factly, without hesitation. Angela didn't know whether to call him stupid… or be rather impressed by his bravery. He was devoted to this mission, even when he had no right to be. He didn't owe the dog any favours. Yet here he was, ready to risk his life. Angela felt herself be warmed inside and out.

She bumped his side, both playful and reassuring. "Stay out of sight." And then she dashed away.

On the quietest paws she could manage, Angela snuck towards the cage. Bob the rottweiler lay with his back to the door, a soft whine on every breath. The vet felt her heart ache for him. Poor thing was probably missing his home terribly, all of this must be so frightening. Seeing the animal in distress motivated Angela, and she hurried along until she had reached the cage door.

Something about her approach mustn't have been stealthy enough. Bob twitched and then spun towards the door. On seeing a rabbit close by his cage, Bob immediately pulled back his lips to bare his teeth and growled. It was a terrible sound, one that made the fur on Angela's back stand on end. Why did it never bother her when she was human, but now as a rabbit, it sent all her nerves screaming to run!

Breathing evenly, she avoided eye contact – a regular trigger for dogs. Bob needed reassurance or she needed to act quickly, before his noise drew in unwanted attention.

"Hey, now, shhhhhh," she said gently, sweetly, quietly. Could dogs understand rabbits? Or were her words coming out as squeaks? Relaxing her body language, Angela extended the back of her paw towards the bars of the cage. Was it her imagination, or did Bob look rather perplexed and a little curious? Leaning forward, he took a cautious sniff of her paw. Taking in her scent, his growls turned to whines, and his stump of a tail began to wag. Angela smiled. "There's a good boy… Don't worry, I'll have you out in a jiffy."

From his spot as a lookout, Bigwig watched, in awe. Even his mouth was hanging open in shock! She tamed the dog, an enemy of rabbit kind! That was compelling evidence indeed. Either this doe had once been human, or there was some dark magic involved. Bigwig knew which option he preferred.

Leaning up on her back legs, Angela reached for the lock. Thankfully it wasn't padlocked. Evidently the gypsies didn't think they'd be found here. Despite her lack of thumbs, Angela did her best to manipulate the bar, twisting it this way, pulling it that way. Finally, it came loose. The cage was open! The door didn't swing out, thankfully. All Bob had to do was give it a push, and he'd be free!

She heard Bigwig thump a backfoot to sound a warning.

"Alright! Don't get ya knickers in a twist!" came a voice.

Fear shot through Angela as she saw the caravan door swing open and one of the gypsies step out. Had he been alerted by Bob's growling? Why was he coming out now?! There was nothing else for it. The trap would need to be sprung early.

Angela thumped her backfoot to alert Bigwig (a strange sensation in and of itself). She saw him dash towards the other side of the camp and kick a pile of metal and rubbish they'd stacked earlier. It all crashed together with a loud _BANG-CLATTER! _At the same time, Angela sprinted back towards the hedge. As she passed the edge of the caravan, she leapt into the air and bounced her feet back onto the side panels. Anyone inside would be alerted now.

As predicted, the gypsies came scurrying out to investigate all the noise. In his cage, Bob was growling. They ignored him, looking about in the darkness for any sign of intruders. With a deep breath, Angela let loose the loudest sound she could make – a high pitched squealing screech.

It worked. The gypsies, on alert, went towards the sound. As they stepped forward, snares and other such traps sprang around their ankles. Bigwig and Angela had harvested them all from the surrounding area, and with Angela's knowledge, had set half a dozen of them outside the caravan door. The gypsies cried out, tried to pull their legs free and tripped. Angela was meant to run for the hedge and get to safety – she'd given the gypsies a taste of their own medicine, that should have been revenge enough for her. But she felt compelled to stay put, to watch. It felt sickening to realise she felt _good_ watching them suffer.

Bob, alerted by all the noise, nosed at the door of his cage. When there was no resistance, he pawed at it, and the door swung open. The rottweiler stepped out slowly and spotted the men on the floor. Whether it was some ancient instinct that drew him in, or recognition for those that had hurt and frightened him, Bob approached the downed gypsies. His lips pulled back over his teeth; a deep, snarling growl erupted from his throat. The trapped men tried to scoot away, shouting and kicking their legs at the Rottweiler's snapping jaws.

Angela was broken out of her spell when Bigwig called to her from the hedge. "Angela! Come on, let's go!"

"Wait…" she said. Why wasn't the dog leaving them alone? Yes, a part of her wanted him to rip them apart – they deserved it, a voice whispered. But the more analytical part of her knew that the longer Bob hung around here, the more likely it was for the Gypsies to recover and recapture him. "Bob's not leaving. He needs to get out of here, before they get back up!"

She dashed into the fray.

"Angela, no!"

Her heart hammered, and she felt the clouds of _Tharn_ try to enclose around her mind once more. But her instinct to protect the wellbeing of an animal, her vet-mode, saved her. She pushed through it and ran straight in front of Bob. He jumped back, startled. Angela made a loud squeak and then dashed off again. She knew Bob had a high prey drive, and she took advantage of it, even if it nearly gave her a heart attack! The dog's breath panted at her flank, droplets of his slobber splattered her tail when he tried to snap at her. He charged after her, his longer legs and determination eating up the ground as quickly as Angela could sprint!

From the position of the sun, she knew the vague direction of Nuthanger Farm. With a burst of speed, she raced towards the edge of the hedge that would lead Bob in that direction. But then what? Angela's heart threatened to stop as she realised she had no plan for getting Bob to stop chasing her! She'd just seen what needed to be done, and she'd done it – _now what?!_

She ran through the hedge. It would slow Bob down as he would have to plough right through it. But it wouldn't stop him. Angela tried to think of a plan –

A pinching piercing pain in the scruff of her neck. Gravity lurched a different way. Her balance was tipped, and she was hauled down and backwards. She was thrown to the earth, dazed. Big paws came either side of her, a large furred body huddled over her own. It took her a moment to recognise it was Bigwig as he lay atop her, pressing her into the earth. They'd dug a pit in the hedge to hide in once their trap had been sprung. He'd pulled her in.

Beyond the hedge, they heard crashing and grunting as Bob forced his way through. His paws and underbelly passed right over them. Angela's stomach quivered and she bit down a whimper. Whether he felt the danger too or was instinctively responding to her fear, Bigwig pressed himself closer around her, shielding her from sight. It made sense, one side of her brain said; his fur naturally blended a lot better than hers. But another part recognised that she felt a little hot and flustered, that if Bigwig had been human, this would be a very _compromising_ position…

When Bob got out of the other side, he looked around, likely confused as to where his prey had vanished to. Nose to the ground, he sniffed and snuffled through the dirt. Angela stiffened – would he smell them out? What would they do if he discovered them? But then, Bob's head lifted and he stared off into the horizon. He whined briefly, before sprinting off in that direction. Angela relaxed. Apparently, Bob wanted the comforts of home more than he wanted rabbit for dinner.

Bigwig too relaxed with a massive sigh. He looked at her, amber eyes rather close now. At first, she thought he might berate her for her stupidity. But then, his lips crinkled at the edges, and he chuckled. Angela found herself laughing too. It was the kind of laugh one shares when one has survived a dangerous experience, and the adrenaline, the thrill of _life_, is too much to resist.

Yet as their laughter simmered down and they sobered, the pair of them became very aware of how Bigwig was still laying atop her, and how Angela was still enclosed in the wall of his arms. If she'd been human, Angela might've blushed from her cheeks to her toes.

"Oh, sorry about that," Bigwig murmured and scrambled back away from her.

They both climbed to their feet, avoiding eye contact. Clearing his throat briskly, Bigwig mentioned they should probably go after Hazel and the others. Angela nodded and followed close behind.


End file.
